The Only Constant
by CrookshanksTheKneazle
Summary: Months after the Battle of Hogwarts, the Ministry hosts a cleanup of all war-torn areas. While volunteering, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron happen upon a device that allows them to time travel. They soon realize, however, that this is no ordinary time turner. Rated T for later chapters.
1. No Children in the Training Room

Summary: Months after the Battle of Hogwarts, the Ministry hosts a cleanup of all war-torn areas. While volunteering, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron happen upon a device that allows them to time travel. They soon realize, however, that this is no ordinary time turner.

Disclaimer: The rights to Harry Potter and any associated characters, themes, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own this world. I merely write in it.

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Chapter 1: No Children in the Training Room

The clock ticked sharply. Many people in the room were sweating profusely under the fumes. Harry Potter tried to stop himself from throwing his potions ingredients across the room. According to his training guide, the light yellow substance in his portable cauldron should have turned a deep maroon by now, and it was showing no signs of darkening. _Maybe I should have completed Hogwarts after all,_ he thought.

Eleven months. It had been eleven months since that fateful duel with Voldemort. After the War, Kingsley had offered that any veteran at the Battle of Hogwarts could graduate without his or her NEWTs and still qualify for auror training. Harry, Ron, and, most particularly, Neville had jumped at the chance, as it meant that they could enter auror training without the necessary marks. Harry had been initially mesmerized with the large auror training room, with its multiple stations for stealth training, dueling, potion brewing, and other disciplines. The last few months of training, though, had been more difficult than he had expected. Much of his success on the battlefield had been pure luck or help. In the training room, however, he only had himself and his objectives. No assistance allowed.

He sighed inwardly as he read the instructions on his worksheet:

 _Emergency poisoning kits are usually given to practicing aurors in the field. Please use the provided kit to solve the following realistic scenario:_

 _Victim is found at crime scene experiencing slow poisoning from unidentifiable substance. Presumed poisoner has fled the scene thirty seconds previously. Symptoms observed are purple facial veins, dry hands, and frothing at the mouth. Victim has also lost all motor capability. Assuming substance is wizard-made and not Muggle-made or naturally occurring, brew a potion that neutralizes the symptoms. (Time given for exercise: 5 minutes) Please note that emergency poisoning kits do NOT provide all standard potion ingredients._

No mention of what poison it was, no hint of what potion was used to treat it, no steps written on the board, no large standard-issue cauldron, and only a fraction of regular potion ingredients given. And they had five minutes.

This was almost worse than Snape's classes. Almost.

The clock rang obnoxiously. A couple of trainees jumped, and Dawlish silenced it with his wand.

"Hands off, wands away!" he shouted to the room. All of the trainees raised their arms to show their palms. He paced in front of the single long table where all of them were assembled. "Does anyone think that they have completed the exercise?"

Some of them shook their heads. Others looked up and down the table to see if anyone had achieved the feat. Harry looked down at his small cauldron. Still yellow.

"That is exactly what I expected," he stated, "In real situations with standard poisons, you might have less than five minutes, maybe even seconds, to act. But the exercise was being generous considering that it was a rarer, slow-acting variety. Let's examine your work."

Since the end of the War, the auror department had retired Dawlish from active work and assigned him to training the next generation, or 'regiment', of aurors. Harry still wasn't sure if he liked Dawlish. He was very objective in his training style. On the one hand, this meant that if a trainee made a mistake he would simply tell them that they were incorrect and move on. No criticism, just areas for improvement. On the other hand, this also meant that if someone did extremely well, he would simply say that they were correct. No compliments or smiles or house points. As Dawlish liked to say, there were no children in the training room.

Dawlish had reached Neville's cauldron. "There's nothing here, Longbottom."

Neville hesitated, "I didn't have time to make my potion, Sir."

"So do you have any work to show?"

"Well, I made notes on my worksheet, and I gathered potion ingredients." He gestured to them weakly.

Dawlish examined Neville's worksheet and the potion ingredients. "Your notes are correct, Longbottom. The symptoms directly point to the poison Tardis Mortensia, more popularly known as Liquid Senescence, and these are most of the ingredients used to create an antidote. If an antidote was required, that is."

The trainees stared in confusion at his last statement. "Um, Sir," called Armando Fernandez, one of the hopefuls, "Aren't we _supposed_ to be making an antidote?"

"Fernandez, how could you brew a full antidote in five minutes? You were not even given all of the ingredients. And according to the scenario, you were at a crime scene, presumably not an apothecary."

The regiment gasped in realization at what he was saying. Some, like Ron, had not cottoned on.

"The instructions never asked you to brew an antidote, nor did I. Your job as aurors is to _neutralize the symptoms._ Keep them alive so the healers can cure them. You read the scenario: the poisoner fled the scene. You need to catch the suspect, not spend a bloody hour bringing the victim to glowing health."

He looked at some more of the cauldrons, making corrections. Ron had apparently guessed the wrong type of slow-acting poison. At last, Dawlish came to Harry's cauldron. He peered at the yellow substance.

"You were correct in guessing the type of poison, Potter: Liquid Senescence. And you are a quarter of the way through with an antidote, although it appears you applied a clockwise stir where it shouldn't be. Despite this, there is an indication that your potions skills have improved. However, as I said, we are not looking for an antidote." Harry heard a light snigger next to him, too soft for Dawlish to hear.

It was Elise Fuhrman, one of the other trainees. On the whole, Harry had done well with building relationships in his regiment, despite the fact that most of his peers were either a couple years older or never went to Hogwarts. There was one hopeful, though, who seemed determined to make an enemy of him. Elise Fuhrman, known to everyone simply as Fuhrman, was generally intimidating. She had long, dark hair that stood out against her pale skin, with tattoos down her back and amber eyes that reminded him of a hawk. She was extremely tall and towered over most of the regiment, allowing her to frequently defeat him in physical sparring. Harry didn't know why she hated him, but he thought that maybe it had something to do with her schooling experience. She was homeschooled by a wizard in Newham, one of the poorest areas of London, and her father was a Muggle mechanic. This upbringing seemed to explain why she could spit crude statements across a room with no regrets.

Dawlish approached her workspace. "Where is your cauldron, Fuhrman?"

"Didn't use one, Sir."

"Why not?"

"This was an emergency, and I needed to act fast. In those cases, the stomach and its natural acids work like a cauldron, so you can take the risk of going without one to save time. You can just feed the ingredients to the victim."

Dawlish nodded, "Not generally a rule of thumb, but that is technically correct. So what have you got here?" He pointed to the ingredients on her table.

"Root of asphodel, brings down the heart rate," she went down the row, "Syrup of hellebore to get the victim moving again; flubberworm mucus to make sure the body doesn't dry up. I was about to get one more ingredient before you called time, and after that one I figured the victim would've been stable and ready for a trip to Saint Mungo's."

"I would have also given the victim aconite and shrivelfig. Otherwise, yes, the mixture would be effective. With those two ingredients in addition to your list, you would definitely be able to neutralize given the time allotted."

Although he walked on without giving praise, the whole room stared at her enviously, some of them adoringly. Fuhrman turned to Harry with an almighty smirk. He wished Hermione could still be his class genius.

But life had changed.

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Hey everyone! This story is going to have multiple chapters, so don't be alarmed that I haven't referred to time travel yet! We'll get there soon. I'll try to update this regularly.


	2. Harry's Room

Here is Chapter 2 for all of you! Someone asked an interesting question in a guest review about what Fuhrman (my OC) really had to gain from taunting and besting Harry. In my mind, I think the biggest gain would be to eventually become Head of the Auror Department several years down the line, and, if she were lucky, to become Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Just wanted to mention that review because it got me thinking about character motivation.

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Chapter 2: Harry's Room

"Did you see the look on her face?" Ron asked. Harry and Ron were heading to the fireplaces in the Atrium. "She really hates you, Harry."

"Does she do that with you?"

"Well, she tells crude jokes to everyone. Always tries to take the piss. But she doesn't bully anyone."

"Except for me."

"Harry, forget about it. She can snigger all she wants, but you were brilliant. You heard Dawlish: your potion-making is getting better! I didn't even get the poison right."

"And I didn't finish my potion," Neville said from behind them. He had caught up to them in the Atrium. "Good thing the test is going to be easier."

"Which test?" Harry asked.

"The one they give you after the three years of training. I heard Dawlish saying that they lost too many aurors in the War, so they need to make the test easier to induct more people- wait a second!"

He scurried over to the Fountain of Magical Brethren as they were passing and flicked a silver sickle into the water.

"Do you always do that?" Ron asked.

"I try to. Goes to a good cause." Neville's parents were still in Saint Mungo's, having never recovered from being tortured into insanity. "I'm glad they restored the Fountain. Parts of this place are still under construction from the War."

Harry nodded, "We volunteered to clean up here this weekend."

"For the Easter Cleanup Event?" Neville asked. "Luna, Hannah, and I are going to volunteer over at Hogwarts."

"You can volunteer at Hogwarts?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. You can choose any one of multiple sites that were damaged in the War. I know that Dean and Seamus will be in London cleaning up Diagon Alley and Gringotts. Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones are going to Wales. There was apparently a town square over there that was destroyed by Death Eaters."

They had finally reached the fireplaces. Harry's thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. "I can't wait for them to come home."

"Who? Ernie and Susan?"

"No," said Ron, "He's talking about Ginny and Hermione. We're supposed to go with Dad to pick them up from King's Cross today."

"But," Neville hesitated, "You're late."

"What?"

"We got out of training later than usual, didn't you notice? The Hogwarts Express dropped everyone off at King's Cross about fifteen minutes ago."

Harry and Ron looked at each other frantically. "Neville, we have to go," Harry blurted out. And with that, the two boys plunged their hands into the floo powder, stepped into a fireplace and shouted, "The Burrow!"

They tumbled out over the living room carpet and looked around. Charlie Weasley sat on the couch, reading a dragon encyclopedia and not batting an eye. Since the War he had decided to stay at the Burrow and put his career on a yearlong hold. While dragons were his life, he realized that his family was his soul, and he used his year off to support them whenever possible. And to eat his mother's cooking, of course.

"Have you seen Mum, Charlie?" Ron asked.

"In the kitchen, Dears!" she shouted. Harry and Ron entered to find her stirring some stew. The smell was tantalizing.

"Mum, did Dad leave already?"

"Of course. The train came in about fifteen minutes ago." Harry and Ron groaned.

"Don't worry. They should be back any minute now. Check the clock."

The two of them went back to the living room to check the Weasleys' special clock. Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Charlie, and Bill's hands all pointed to 'Home' (Bill had probably returned to Shell Cottage after his day at Gringotts). While Ginny and Mr. Weasley's hands were on 'Travelling'. Harry looked at George's hand that was set on 'Work' with Percy's. Months after Fred's death, George sought to put his heart back into his work at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, toiling for hours at a time with the help of his friend Angelina Johnson. Fred's hand wasn't even on the clock anymore. Instead of pointing to anything in particular, it had hung limp after the War and George had decided that he wanted to keep it.

There was a loud _pop_ outside, and Mr. Weasley and Ginny's hands changed to 'Home'.

Harry and Ron bustled out the front door, with Charlie close behind. There they were, Ginny and Mr. Weasley, both standing at the end of the driveway holding baggage. Ginny looked a little uncomfortable and disheveled, as she was not yet used to apparating. Despite this, Harry was still in awe. He hadn't seen his girlfriend since her last Hogsmeade trip, and that had been a couple months ago. She was as lovely as she had always been, with her flowing red hair and her soft smile and her beautiful brown eyes.

Harry ran to her and engulfed her in a hug. She dropped her bags and hugged him back. His face was buried in her hair, where he caught a whiff of her distinct flowery scent. The creature in his chest purred happily.

"Missed you," he murmured.

"Missed you too!" She squeezed him harder, and they let go. He wanted to kiss her very badly, but he wouldn't do it in front of her family.

Ron and Charlie gave their sister a hug. "Where's Hermione?" Ron asked.

"At her parents'. She'll be coming over tomorrow for the Cleanup. But you know her: she always wants extra time with them." Ron's face fell a little, but it was indeed true. After going to Australia and restoring her parents' memories, Hermione took no moment with her parents for granted.

The group helped Ginny inside with her bags and her mother gave her a bone-crushing hug. As of late she had been very sensitive about keeping her children close.

"You lot should get washed up for dinner," Mrs. Weasley said, "Harry, Ron, you're still in your work robes. How about you change before you eat?"

They didn't argue and headed upstairs. As Ron continued to take the stairs to his attic bedroom, however, Harry turned onto the second floor, to Percy's old room. Since the War, the Weasleys had very forcibly insisted that Harry live with them, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny being the most vocal of the bunch. After moving in, Ginny had painted a simple sign outside the door that read 'Harry's Room'. Percy didn't mind, as he lived in his flat in London. And Ginny certainly didn't mind, as his bedroom was only a floor above hers.

As he was changing, he heard a characteristic sound on his floorboards: two knocks. Harry grinned. He had missed that sound. He knelt on the floor and responded: two knocks. He was glad that Ginny was back, and he could hardly wait to see Hermione.

Moments later, there was a knock at the door. Ginny and Ron strode into the room. Ron settled in his bed, while Ginny planted quick kiss on Harry's lips before sitting on Percy's old desk chair.

Ron shook his head. "I'll never get used to that."

"Deal with it," Ginny retorted. She looked between the two of them. "How's auror training going?"

"It's been terrible," said Ron, "But then again, everyone's terrible."

"Fuhrman doesn't think she's terrible," Harry murmured.

"What did that cow do now?" Ginny asked. She had heard from Ron and Harry about Elise Fuhrman and her less-than-friendly behavior.

"Gloating, as usual."

"What does she have to gloat about? She didn't save the world." She gave him a small smile.

Harry wanted to change the subject. "How's school going?"

"Good, as always. Hermione's still the best in our class. She's going to crush her NEWTs. She, Luna, and I have been visiting Hagrid a lot. Some of the thestrals had foals. And I'm coming up with a new Quidditch strategy to show the recruiters." Several Quidditch recruiters, in the spirit of the game, had decided that the aftermath of a War could not stop them from finding players for their reserves. After being named Quidditch captain, it was Ginny's dream to be recruited by The Holyhead Harpies, her favorite team.

Ron's stomach grumbled. "When is dinner? I'm starving."

"Mum says that she's waiting for Percy and Bill and Fleur. George is eating at his flat again," Ginny said.

"I hope Fleur doesn't cry like last time."

"Ron, you pig, she's eight months pregnant! And, if you didn't notice, we've just come out of a war, so everyone's been crying lately." Ron looked at her in shock. He couldn't argue.

Because it was true.

Everyone had been crying lately.

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End of chapter 2! Hope all of you can excuse the lack of action. I'm trying to give exposition in a way that sets the tone but also builds the story. And chapters are kind of short to ensure that I can update in a timely manner. Constructive criticism is appreciated, as always!


	3. The Metronome in the Storeroom

Chapter 3! Yay! This is where the action starts to build.

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Chapter 3: The Metronome in the Storeroom

Harry woke up in Percy's old bed, in Percy's old room. _My room now,_ he reminded himself. He forgot what he had dreamt about last night, and he was glad that he didn't remember. He had a feeling that he had had a nightmare again. He rubbed his eyes and put on his glasses.

Harry had been afraid to decorate his new room. What if he moved out to Grimmauld Place? Or Percy decided to come back? He had however, given himself a little bit of decorative freedom: he had framed a picture of his parents and set it on his bedside table. Lily and James were always holding each other, always smiling up at him.

Two knocks. Harry bent down on the floorboards, but realized that the sound was in fact coming from the door. "Come in!"

Ginny traipsed in, still wearing her long-sleeved checked pajamas. "Mum told me to wake you up. Guess I didn't have to." She sat next to him on his bed. The flowery scent invaded his nostrils.

Harry hesitated. Ginny was braver in matters of romance. "Um, Ginny?"

"Yeah?"

"There's something I wanted to give you yesterday, but I didn't want to do it in front of your family."

Ginny smiled and leaned closer to him. "I know what you mean."

Harry claimed her lips in a kiss, and she kissed him back with enthusiasm. It was like his seventeenth birthday all over again, except there was something so satisfying about knowing that it was he who had initiated that kiss, and she had given over to it so easily. His world was just her. Only her. Months away from her made every touch and every kiss burn with a fiery novelty. He wanted this to last forever-

Ron burst into the room. Harry and Ginny jumped apart.

"Mum says that breakfast is ready. And that you two should get changed." He eyed them pointedly.

"You can't interrupt us forever, Ron," Ginny said determinedly, "Remember Hogsmeade?" Whenever Ron 'accidentally' interrupted a snogging session between the two of them, Ginny found it fun to remind Ron of the multiple Hogsmeade trips in which she and Harry had managed to get in a decent snog without his disturbance.

"Honestly, Ronald. It's not like we don't do the same thing."

The three of them turned around. It was Hermione. Ron's face instantly lit up. "Hermione!"

She ran to him and he gave her a kiss that lasted a little too long.

Ginny released a cough that sounded a lot like the word 'hypocrite' and they broke apart. Hermione hurried over to Harry, and he gave her a big hug.

"When did you get here?"

"A few minutes ago. I decided to meet the three of you at the Burrow instead of the Ministry Atrium."

"It's probably better that way," Ginny said, "I heard that the Atrium is going to be full of volunteers checking in for the cleanup, so we would've had to find you in a crowd."

After Harry and Ginny changed and got ready, the four descended the stairs, chatting about Hermione's parents and the revival of their dentistry business. When they reached the kitchen, Charlie was already eating breakfast and Mrs. Weasley was adding bacon to four plates.

"This one is yours, Harry dear." She handed him a plate with twice as much food as everyone else. "You should all head out early. I heard there will be a lot of volunteers today." She placed a pitcher of pumpkin juice on the table, "And when you come back the four of you will need to clean your rooms. Or at the very least help me clean the living room. We'll be having guests for Easter dinner."

"Percy?" Ron asked, cringing slightly. Percy might have made up for his disloyalty to his family, but that didn't stop him from making boring lectures on floo regulation.

Mrs. Weasley nodded, "Yes, there's Percy. And there's Hermione and her parents," she smiled at Hermione. "And Bill is coming with Fleur, provided she is feeling well enough to come over. George and Angelina are also coming, as well as Andromeda-"

"And Teddy?" Harry asked excitedly.

Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Yes."

"Don't know what you're so excited about, Harry," said Ron between mouthfuls of scrambled egg, "You see him, like, every weekend." While it had been difficult to look at Teddy at first and not think about Remus and Tonks, Harry had grown very attached to his little godson. It seemed to surprise everyone that a teenager who had not previously had much interest in children was now a pro at holding babies and playing peekaboo. Ginny, too, had become very involved in Teddy's life, singing him to sleep and reading him stories whenever she saw him. Whenever Harry saw her do this, it gave him a fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't quite place.

Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione finished breakfast and promptly exited through the floo. When they arrived at the Ministry, the Atrium was packed with wizards and witches from across the country. Many of them were lined up at a desk with a sign in front of it: 'Easter Cleanup- Volunteers'. The four of them lined up.

"Are you registered to volunteer?" the man at the desk asked as they reached the front of the line.

"Yes," Hermione answered.

"Names?" He pulled out a list.

"Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter."

The man's eyes widened slightly at the mention of the name and flitted briefly to the lightening scar on Harry's forehead. Harry was used to this. Fortunately, though, the man didn't make a fuss about it.

"Your group is going to be volunteering at the storeroom of the Department of Magical Transportation. Here are your volunteer badges." He gave them four badges on lanyards. "Take the lifts to level six. You should find a member of Magical Maintenance ready to give you instructions."

They crossed the Atrium and entered one of the lifts. They didn't need to be told where the Department of Magical Transportation was. That was one of the perks of breaking into the Ministry multiple times: you never needed to ask for directions.

"Department of Magical Transportation," said the cool female voice, "Home of the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparition Test Centre."

They exited the lift and came face-to-face with an old man in Maintenance robes. With his dark eyes, bushy eyebrows, and scruffy beard, Harry thought he looked rather like a sea captain.

"You volunteering?" he asked. They nodded, taking in the man's shabby appearance.

"Good. The name's Mac. Magical Maintenance worker. Follow me." He crossed down the hall. It seemed as though he was going to turn into the Portkey Office, but instead he kept walking and stood outside of what looked like a broom cupboard. Mac beckoned them inside. Harry was the last to follow.

"Welcome to the storeroom," Mac said. The area was twice the size of a broom cupboard, covered from floor to ceiling with teetering piles of cardboard boxes. "A lot of departmental items were either stolen, lost, misplaced, or broken during the War. You'll see here," he held up a Japanese tea set, "This belongs to the Department of International Magical Cooperation, but during the War it somehow ended up over here. But this," he held up an old broom, "It actually belongs to this department, but somehow the blokes from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement got their hands on it. You need to sort all of these items by department so that everyone gets the right stuff."

The group looked confused. "Weren't we supposed to be doing a cleanup of war rubble or something?" Ron asked.

"War rubble?"

"Yeah, like fixing up monuments and stuff?"

Mac chuckled, "Oh no. That's for the volunteers downstairs. You four are on storeroom duty. It's my lunch break now, so I'd better get going. Good luck and be careful: there are some illegal magic carpets floating around here. Those buggers are tricky." And with that, he closed the door behind him, leaving the four teenagers in silence.

"It's not even lunch time yet," Harry murmured.

"I can't believe it," Ginny said, "I thought we were going to restore giant pillars or something, not sort through a lost-and-found."

"Same," Ron groaned.

Hermione looked around hopefully. "I'm sure this job is important to the Ministry, otherwise they wouldn't be giving it to volunteers." She examined some of the boxes. "Come on. It'll be just like when we cleaned up Grimmauld Place."

"Yeah, because that was a party," Ron muttered.

"At least Sirius was there," Harry mused. The other three tried not to make eye contact. This had been happening a little too frequently after the War: someone would make a wistful, reminiscent reference to a dead loved one and leave the rest of the room speechless. They had all been guilty of this at some point.

They began to sort through the boxes. Luckily, unlike Grimmauld Place, there were no cloaks that tried to strangle you or music boxes that tried to serenade you into a coma. Over the course of an hour they had sorted through many interesting items, including an old glass bottle that was once used as a Portkey, a gobstones kit from the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and even one of Fred and George's invisibility hats from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry, Ron, and Ginny had just found a box of Quidditch paraphernalia when Hermione called to them from across the room.

"I wonder what the Ministry uses this for," she asked, holding up a triangular wooden object with what looked like a long silver antenna sticking out of it.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"It's called a metronome. Musicians usually use it to count the timing of their beats, because it clicks at regular intervals as the pendulum moves back and forth. You can set it so that it moves at a particular number of beats per minute."

"Hermione, how do you know everything?" Ron asked.

"Because I read, Ronald."

"I've never read that anywhere."

Ginny smirked. "That sentence implies that you actually read."

"Guys," Harry murmured.

"It's not like _you're_ going to get Outstanding in all your NEWTs," Ron snapped.

"Guys," Harry said.

"It's not like you _have_ any NEWTs," Ginny spat.

"Harry doesn't have any either, b-"

"OI!"

The three of them turned to Harry. "Look where we're standing."

The four of them looked at the floor. They were standing on a carpet, and its corners were flapping up mischievously.

"It's a magic carpet."

"One of the illegal ones?"

"Nobody move, or it'll-" In one heartbeat, the carpet swung out from under their feet. Their legs were flailing, boxes overturning. Glass smashed. Piles crashed.

The metronome ticked. The Earth ticked with it.

And something felt horribly, inexplicably wrong.

* * *

End of Chapter 3. This is where things get interesting. I was inspired to use a metronome from the show Warehouse 13, although the mysterious metronome from that show has a different purpose entirely.


	4. The Ministry of Magic?

Chapter 4: The Ministry of Magic?

 _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

It sounded like a clock. As the pendulum of the metronome swayed, back and forth, it felt as if the whole world was turning before Harry's eyes. He had a headache. He was seeing double. He couldn't stand anymore. The ticking was growing louder, invading his mind. As Harry knelt on the floor, screwing his eyes closed and clamping his hands over his ears, so did the others. He felt a swooshing sensation, almost like wind.

The ticking stopped.

He checked on the others. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were all on the floor with him.

"Merlin. What was that?" Ron asked.

Ginny rubbed her temples. "Did anyone else hear a really loud ticking?" They all nodded.

"It was that thing, the metronome." Harry pointed to it. It was on the floor between them, its pendulum still and resolute. "It's the only thing in here that makes that noise."

"How cool," Ron gasped in awe, "A metro-thingy that cleans your room."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ronald, it's called a metronome, firstly. Secondly- what are you talking about?"

"Look!"

It was the first time that Harry had really looked at his surroundings since Hermione had dropped the metronome. All of the clutter had disappeared: there were no longer Japanese tea sets and boxes of Quidditch gear and gobstone kits. The room was almost completely empty, aside from two brooms, some cleaning supplies, and four boxes stacked neatly in the corner labeled 'Property of the Department of Magical Transportation'. Every surface of the room looked neat, dusted, and orderly.

Ginny's eyes grew wide. "All of the boxes- where did they go?"

"I told you," Ron insisted, "That thing cleans rooms. Probably something from Magical Maintenance."

"It's not from Magical Maintenance," Hermione murmured. She was holding the metronome upside down, "There's an engraving here- 'Department of Mysteries'." She bit her lip. "This is serious. The Department of Mysteries only deals with top secret and dangerous projects."

"We don't know if it's dangerous," Ron said.

"But we don't know that it's harmless either," Ginny argued, "Just because something _looks_ nice doesn't mean it is. And this is coming from someone who's been possessed by a book talking to someone who's been attacked by a brain."

"Then what should we do?"

"We need to give this to Kingsley," said Hermione, "The Minister for Magic should know that something from the Department of Mysteries has been misplaced. They might even have been looking for it. It might be important."

At these words, they all headed for the door.

"Wait!" Harry shouted. "How do we know we're still in the same room? For all we know, we could be somewhere else."

"There's only one way to find out," Ron answered softly. He pulled open the door and looked down the hall, then turned back and nodded. "We're still in the storeroom."

"Let's go," said Harry.

"Where's Kingsley's office?" Ginny asked.

"Level one," the trio chorused. They headed down the corridor, straight for the lift.

"Wait a minute." Hermione looked behind her. "Ron, what are you doing?"

Ron had straggled behind, standing in front of an enchanted window. Sun was streaming through the window, lighting up a patch of the carpet. "Wasn't it raining when we first got in?"

"Ron, it's enchanted. Maintenance can change it whenever they want. Now, come on!"

The four of them entered the lift and pressed level one, but it descended to level five. "Department of International Magical Cooperation," said the cool female voice, "Including the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magic Office of Law, and the International Confederation of Wizards, British seats." Two witches entered the lift in animated conversation.

"Can't we protest or something? Merlin, he is such a pig, making us work today."

"Want to grab a Muggle coffee, Agnes? Nobody will notice. It _is_ Sunday, after all."

"Um, isn't Sunday tomorrow?" Ron interjected, "Today's April third, so it would be Saturday."

The two women turned to him. The one named Agnes smiled sympathetically, "The boss working you hard too, eh? I understand: it happens to me all the time, mixing up the days. Today's Sunday, the third of April."

"Level three," the cool voice finally said, "Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, home of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee." A couple of memos flew into the lift.

" _Dennis_ is on level three," Agnes tittered to her friend, "Should we ask him to join us?"

Her friend blushed, "Let's go." The two women scurried out of the lift, and the doors closed again.

"Did I get mixed up?" Ron asked, "Is it Sunday today?"

"No," said Hermione, "Easter Sunday is tomorrow. Today's Saturday."

"Then why did they say-"

"Level Two: Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Wizengamot Administration Services, Auror Headquarters, and Muggle Protection Office."

"I've never heard of the Muggle Protection Office," Harry said.

Hermione frowned. "That's because there isn't one."

This time several people entered the lift, including a dark-haired man in a trench coat, two wizards holding biting jewelry boxes, and a witch holding a set of glowing green handcuffs.

One of the men with the jewelry boxes addressed Hermione, "Good afternoon, Madam Mi-" The man suddenly looked surprised. "Sorry, young lady, I thought you were someone else." He turned back to his colleague, clearly embarrassed.

"Level one: Minister for Magic and Support Staff, including Senior Undersecretary and Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic."

"This is us," Harry said. The four of them strode out swiftly, heading down the corridor.

Hermione led the group down a thick purple carpet. "Kingsley's office should be this way." Enchanted windows cast their cheerful sunrays, making the purple fibers of the carpet sparkle. The level looked almost deserted. Harry looked around. There was nobody behind them, but he had the chilling feeling that they were being watched.

"Hey, look at this," Ginny said. The three of them turned around. She was looking at a silver plaque posted on a large mahogany door. The same door, Harry realized, that was once the entrance to Umbridge's office. "Kingsley must have hired a new Senior Undersecretary."

"What do you mean?" Hermione inquired, "The Ministry currently doesn't have a Senior Undersecretary or a Junior Assistant. Kingsley's been so busy after the War that he hasn't named them yet."

"Looks like he has now," Ron said, pointing to the plaque, "Dina Knox, whoever she is."

Harry saw a flash of something out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look at it, it was gone. It still seemed like they were the only ones in the corridor.

"We shouldn't go to Kingsley," Harry decided.

The three of them looked at him confusedly. "Why not?" Ginny asked.

"There's something wrong, didn't you notice? Everything's been off since we got out of that storeroom: the departments, the days of the week, even the goddamn windows are different."

"Maybe Kingsley can help," Ron reasoned.

"But what if Kingsley isn't there? What if whatever we did with the metronome changed something, and he isn't there anymore?"

"This might not even be the real Ministry," Ginny thought aloud, "It could be- I don't know- a dream, or something."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Hermione said, "It is very possible that Maintenance changed the windows, the overworked ladies in the lift were confused, and Kingsley put in departmental changes while we were in the storeroom. All of those things have completely logical explanations."

"I think we should wait, Hermione," Harry insisted, "We should try to figure out exactly what the metronome does before we show it to other people. We might be walking into some kind of trap."

Hermione looked frustrated. "Harry, there _is_ no-" In a flash of red light, she sank to the floor, unconscious. Before they could respond, they were struck in the back. As Harry's eyes closed and consciousness left him, all he could see was the blurred outline of a man, standing over them all.

A dark-haired man in a long trench coat.

* * *

End of Chapter 4! This chapter is, admittedly, shorter than the others. I had an idea of where I wanted this chapter to go, but didn't realize that it would end so quickly. I promise the next one will be longer! And I would love to hear what you think is going to happen next!


	5. Trapped in the Old Shack

Chapter 5: Trapped in the Old Shack

Harry blinked. It took him a few minutes to remember why he had been unconscious in the first place. He instinctively grabbed for his wand, but realized that it wasn't in his pocket. He felt a stirring beside him. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had also woken up.

"Where are we?" Ginny asked wearily.

One valuable piece of training that he had received as an auror trainee was the emergency protocol for kidnapping. "If you have been captured," Dawlish always said, "Do not panic. Stop, take a deep breath, and study your surroundings. Use every sense: sight, smell, touch, hearing, even taste. Every little detail matters, whether to plan escape or identify location."

Harry looked around. He couldn't identify where they were. It seemed like they were in some sort of cabin. The ceilings and floors were entirely made of wood, and it smelled of freshly mown grass. It was also dark, making it difficult to see, and the only light came from tiny holes in the boards on the side of the cabin. The side of the room where they sat was empty, but the far side of the room, from what he could tell, held brooms, various gardening supplies, and lawn care products. On the right next to the lawn care supplies was a window covered in a thick black curtain. On the left side next to the brooms was-

"There's the door," Ron whispered urgently. He stood up and headed for the other side of the room, but collided with a glowing barrier that had been invisible a second earlier.

"Imperturbable Charm," Hermione muttered, "Whoever brought us here does not want us coming out or using the other half of the room. At least they didn't bind us."

"Yay for us," Harry said dryly.

"Maybe we can use the metronome again, and it'll change the room so we can escape," Ron suggested.

"The metronome was what got us here in the first place, Ron!" Ginny snapped.

Hermione sighed, "It doesn't matter. It's gone. Whoever stunned us confiscated our wands and took the metronome."

"It's got to be the Death Eaters," Ron insisted, "They want to take revenge for You-Know-Who's death, and they want what we found because it's from the Department of Mysteries and it's valuable."

"For God sakes, Ronald, just say 'Voldemort'; he's been dead for months now! And, yes, you might be right. Something doesn't add up, though. If they were Death Eaters, why did they keep us alive? We were in a vulnerable position and they stunned us. Why not kill us instead? It would certainly make things easier."

"Maybe they want to play with their food before they eat it," Ginny suggested darkly.

The door creaked loudly, and someone entered. His face was shrouded in shadow, but Harry knew who it was.

"You!" Harry gasped, "You're the man in the trench coat. You're the one who followed us from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement floor and stunned us."

"I didn't want to do it, Harry, but there was no other way," the man sighed, "When I saw who you were and what you had done, I had to do it." There was something about his voice that sounded familiar.

"Where are our wands?" Harry demanded, "Where's the metronome?"

"I didn't want the four of you escaping and endangering yourselves. As for the metronome, I couldn't let you assume the risk of using it."

Ginny snarled, "The only thing endangering us right now is you."

The man's footfalls were soft on the wooden floors. "That's where you've got it wrong, Ginny. I'm one of the good guys. No one wants you to get home more than I."

"Then let us out," Ron ordered.

"It's not that simple, Ron. At this point in time, you can't go home."

"How do you know our names?" Ron asked.

Hermione scowled at the man, "Oh, it's simple, Ron. Our names have been with Harry's in the _Daily Prophet_ for weeks." She turned to the man. "Why aren't you letting us leave?"

"Hermione, you misunderstood me. When I say that you can't go home, I mean that you physically cannot go back home. Even if I let you leave this shack, no matter how far you apparated or how far you walked, you would never be able to reach the home that you know. Because it wouldn't be what you think it is."

"Just like at the Ministry," Ginny murmured, "When we got out everything was different. It's like it _was_ the Ministry…but it wasn't. What does the metronome do?"

"I have some ideas," the man said, "But you're going to need to trust me. Help me answer some questions about your experience. After I figure out how the metronome works, I will erase your memories and use the metronome to send you back home."

"Trust you?" Harry scoffed, " _Trust_ you? Yeah, because locking four teenagers in a shack and threatening to wipe their memories is _so_ trustworthy."

"You don't understand-"

"Enlighten me, then. Who are you?"

"I'm afraid I can't-"

"WHO ARE YOU?!"

The five of them stood in silence. The man's face was still covered in darkness, but Harry could tell that the gears were turning in his mind, that he was carefully pondering what he would say next. The man rubbed the back of his neck wearily. He seemed utterly harmless and genuinely concerned, except Harry had learned long ago not to judge a man by appearances alone. He had always trusted his instincts, but it felt like they were betraying him now. He felt a strike of familiarity in his gut, but he didn't know why.

The man finally spoke. "I'm sorry. I know this looks horrible. I realize that if I want to help the four of you get home safely I need to earn your trust, and I can't do that unless I tell you who I am. But I can't tell you who I am until I properly explain what I think the metronome does and what you are doing here."

He began to pace the floors slowly, pensively. "You are restricted from leaving this shack because the moment you arrived at the 'different' Ministry of Magic, this Ministry that you say is not the Ministry you know, you broke an important rule: you must not be seen." He stopped and looked at them, as if begging them to guess. "Hermione, do you understand? I made sure nobody else could see you because _you must not be seen._ "

"No," Hermione shook her head, "That's not- that's not possible. We broke all of them."

Ron looked confused. "All of what?"

"The time turners!" Hermione spluttered, "When we infiltrated the Department of Mysteries in fifth year, we destroyed all of the time turners, and now he's saying that we've time travelled!"

"But the metronome doesn't look like a time turner," Ginny reasoned.

"Ginny," the man said, "A time turner is simply a device that has been subjected to a series of charms to transport the user in time. You may have destroyed all of the time turners, but maybe you haven't destroyed all of the items that have been charmed to perform the exact same purpose."

"So, we've travelled in time? You're from a different time?" Ron asked.

The man nodded. "Yes, I'm from a different year than the four of you."

"And the Ministry that we saw- it was the Ministry of Magic in a different year?"

"Correct."

"How far have we travelled?" Harry asked, "When are we?"

The man hesitated. "What year was it, the last you checked?"

"It was 1999."

"Then you have travelled in time by about twenty-three years." Harry tried to think about what might have been happening twenty-three years ago. His parents were still in school, the Death Eaters growing in power. He was pretty sure that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had either just left Hogwarts or were about to leave.

The man shifted slightly, and Harry saw it: one of the pinpricks of light glinted off his round glasses and slid over the dark tuft of hair on his head, jet-black hair that stuck out at the back. The kind that a comb couldn't conquer.

"Dad?" Harry asked, "Is that you?"

The man sighed sadly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "While I'm flattered that you would confuse me with a younger man, Harry, I'd have to correct you. I'm not your father."

Ginny gasped. "I know who you really are," she whispered softly, realization gripping her. She strode towards the man with a burning look, the kind that Harry only saw after she defeated Death Eaters or won Quidditch games. "The dark hair; the glasses; the way you walk, as if you're a leader but you're still trying to be humble; the whole obsession with _helping_ us; even your _voice_. Why didn't I see it earlier?"

Harry looked between Ginny and the man. "What's going on, Ginny?"

Ginny turned to look at him. There was something behind her eyes, something frantic. "Harry, we are not twenty-three years in the past, and this man is not James Potter." She hesitated. "We are twenty-three years in the future, and this man… is _you."_

"I had a feeling that you would figure it out." The man pulled back the curtain and sunlight flooded through the shack. There he was, no longer wearing the trench coat. Lines grew under his eyes, his raven hair flecked with gray, but the man was unmistakable.

Because Harry stared into bright green eyes, filled with wisdom and age and a lifetime of experience.

And he realized that they were his own.

* * *

Hey guys! I know I promised that this chapter would be longer than the last, and it is - by about 200 words. I wanted to make it longer for your enjoyment, but I figured that if I extended it too much I would compromise the big reveal at the end, and that was ultimately more important. Stay tuned!


	6. Mr Potter Explains Time Travel

Chapter 6! Hooray! Just a spoiler warning: this chapter gives minor Cursed Child spoilers. To those of you who hate the Cursed Child, I promise that the events of CC will be mentioned sparingly throughout the story, and the name Delphie Diggory will not be mentioned, much less become a character. To those of you who liked CC, this story has some very minor canon elements.

* * *

Chapter 6: Mr. Potter Explains Time Travel

Harry's heart beat in his ears. His lungs felt constricted, as if some giant hand was squeezing the life out of them. Every breath was focus; every breath was torture. Hermione had said that this would happen, that not a soul in this world could possibly tell what it was like to meet yourself, that it could take your mind and your sanity. But after everything that had happened in his life, every single horrendous event, this was too much. It wasn't possible.

Was it?

Ginny put a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, say something."

Harry looked the man in the eyes. "I want proof," he demanded. "We're one month away from the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, and some of the Death Eaters obviously won't be happy about that. How do I know you're not some impostor just pretending to be an older me?"

"But Harry," Ron murmured, "He even has your scar. He _is_ you."

"He needs to prove it."

The man conceded. "Fine then. Ask about anything from your life, anything at all. If I am really you, then I will be able to answer any question you give me."

Harry thought long and hard. What was one thing that only _he_ would know, something that he had not told a single person, something much too close to his heart for anyone to realize?

"Before Voldemort- before Voldemort _killed_ me- what was the last thing I thought about?" Harry asked.

"Well, that's simple," the man said. He actually gave a small smile. "Before Voldemort killed me- or, should I say, before he killed you- the only thing you could see was Ginny's face. You were in agony because you didn't fear death, but you feared that you would never see her again, that you would never hold her in your arms or kiss her or see those beautiful blazing brown eyes ever again. That feeling was more painful than death itself." The man seemed very far away in his thoughts now, deep in his own memories.

Ginny looked back at Harry expectantly. She wasn't normally a weepy person, but at that moment she had tears in her eyes.

"So it's true," Harry said, "You're…me?"

"Correction: I will be you, as far as you're concerned. If you don't mind, I can get rid of the Imperturbable Charm and hand back your wands. If you still don't plan on escaping, that is."

They all shook their heads vehemently, and Older Harry undid the charm and produced their wands from his back pocket. He sat on the floor in front of them, cross-legged, and they sat with him. "So, now that we're acquainted, I need to hear every single thing that happened, starting from before you used the metronome. What was your day like?"

Hermione explained what had happened, starting by giving the exact date in their time and what they had been doing when they had found the metronome, and ending with how Older Harry had stunned them. The other three occasionally interjected to add more details.

Older Harry looked thoughtful. "There's one important thing you should know: the date today is Sunday, April 3rd, 2022. That is why the women in the lift thought you had gotten the day wrong."

"Whoa," Ron uttered, "Twenty twenty-two."

"Yes. As I told you, you have time travelled by about twenty-three years."

Hermione lit up, "So, the Muggle Protection Office is real? It's been established?"

Older Harry nodded. "After Kingsley retired, the newly elected minister decided to establish the Muggle Protection Office."

"How fascinating!" Hermione gushed, "So who is the new-"

Older Harry sighed. "Look, before we discuss this any further, I need you lot to know that we will be working together to get you back home."

"Good!" Ginny insisted, "We want to help!"

"Then you'll have to play by my rules. They usually say that time travellers should not give information about the present to people from the past. However, seeing as you have travelled into the future, I will reverse the rule: you can tell me anything you want about the past, seeing as I already know what will happen, but you can't ask me questions about the future."

"But I've got so many things to ask you!" Ron exclaimed. Younger Harry privately agreed. If he had spent his whole childhood fighting Voldemort, didn't he have a right to know if it was all worth it?

"No, Ron, it's too risky. What if you took the information that I gave you and used it in your own time to change your future? Theoretically, if you did that, there is no way that the reality that I live in will not change."

"Unless you erased our memories," Ginny figured, "Then there would be no repercussions because we wouldn't remember. Is that what you meant earlier when you said you would wipe our memories?"

"Yes, unfortunately. While I can definitely institute a rule that you should not ask questions, the four of you already know too much. In fact, if we work together to send you back, it is most likely that you will find out more details about the future, either from me or from your surroundings. So there is a second important rule that I will give you all: if you want to get to the bottom of this instead of sitting in this shack the whole time you are here, you need to agree to be obliviated before you return home."

"No," Younger Harry retorted, "You can't make us forget all of this! I won't let you!"

"I agree with Harry." Ron suddenly looked embarrassed. "Well, I agree with the younger Harry, at least. You can't tamper with our memories like that."

"If you can't stick to my rules, the deal's off the table," Older Harry replied sternly, "Besides, I have evidence that suggests you'll agree eventually."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"If we assumed that time moved in a continuous cycle," explained Older Harry, "Then we can also reason that whatever the younger Harry has experienced, I have experienced. For example, if younger Harry were to give Ginny a necklace for the Christmas of 1999, I would remember giving Ginny a necklace for Christmas in 1999. Does that make sense?"

They all nodded, unsure of where this was going.

"So my younger self is here, right now, experiencing a time-travelling adventure to the year 2022. The problem is that I, as an older man, do not ever remember using a device at the age of eighteen to venture into the future with my friends. I remember the 1999 Easter Cleanup and I remember sorting things in a storeroom, but I don't remember travelling in time, which means that we either come from different dimensions; or time doesn't work in a continuous circle like I think it does; or-"

"Or you eventually erase our memories," Hermione finished.

"Yes, that seems to be the most logical explanation."

"Wait a minute," Ginny interrupted, "If you're right, and time is like a continuous circle, then time is what it is."

"What in the bloody hell does that mean, Ginny?"

"What I mean, Ron, is that even if he didn't obliviate us, everything would still turn out the exact same way, wouldn't it? Just like when Harry used the time turner in third year. He wasn't changing the future, he was just buying himself time to save Sirius and Buckbeak."

"But that time was different," Older Harry insisted, "That time I only travelled in time by about an hour. This time you've travelled years, which creates the risk of interdimensional fracture."

Ron screwed up his face in concentration. "My head hurts. What is that?"

Older Harry rubbed his scar tiredly, "Merlin, how do I explain this?" He looked around and suddenly gestured to a patch of dust on the ground. "Look here." He drew a straight horizontal line in the dust. "A series of events can work in a straight line. Let's use third year as an example: there's Buckbeak's supposed execution." He pressed his finger to a point at the beginning of the line. "Then Sirius is apprehended." He pointed to the middle of the line. "Then we- I mean, you - ended up in the hospital wing." He pointed to the end of the line. "So when you were in the hospital wing and used the time turner, you went back to Buckbeak." He drew a curved arrow in the dirt leading from the end of the line to the beginning. "And then you saved Sirius, and you waited patiently and by the time you got back to your time," he pointed to the end of the line, "Everything was still as you left it. It's still the same line, or the same dimension. You just bought yourself time within that dimension, as Ginny said."

"So, how would it be different if we travelled by years?" Younger Harry asked.

"By years, Ginny's theory would be wrong." Older Harry shifted his spot and drew a new line on the floor. "Imagine that this line doesn't span over the course of a few hours. Imagine that it spans over the course of years. Let's use Ron and Hermione as an example in this case."

"Ron and I?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Yes, you two," Older Harry answered, smirking, "I'd reckon that the Yule Ball helped to establish your feelings for each other." He pointed to the beginning of the line. "Then you snogged in the middle of the Battle of Hogwarts." He pointed to the middle of the line. Younger Harry and Ginny snorted with laughter. "And now you're dating." He pointed to the end of the line. "This is all over the course of four years.

"Now let's say that you went back in time, not by a few hours, but a few years." Once again, he drew a curved arrow from the end of the line to the beginning of the line. "And you somehow interfered with the Yule Ball. Now, if your present was only a few hours into the future, you might be okay: same line, remember? But if your present is a few _years_ into the future, something you do might create a butterfly effect, a chain reaction, that creates a new line, or a new dimension, in which reality is completely different. For example, Ron and Hermione might not end up kissing at the Battle or dating later." He drew a line that protruded diagonally from the starting point. "So when you try to get back home, you will not enter the present in _your_ line, but rather the present in the new dimension that you have created." He pointed to the end of the diagonal line.

Hermione nodded slowly, analyzing the dust lines. "The logic seems sound," she wondered aloud, "But regular time turners only allow the user to travel for hours, so how can we assume that this second theory is true if it's never been tested?"

"Same old Hermione, always checking the facts." Older Harry grinned. "I can vouch for the theory because my s- I mean, someone I care about- used a time turner a couple of years ago that was expressly manufactured for the purpose of travelling years in time. The particulars of that story aren't important because that type of time turner no longer exists. But while this person was time travelling he did have issues with interdimensional fracture."

"But what-"

 _Bang. Bang. Bang._

The five of them grew quiet. Someone was outside the shack.

* * *

Just wanted to clarify as an endnote that for the rest of the story I will be referring to the main Harry from the story as Younger Harry and the Harry from 2022 as Older Harry. I will continue to do this with other characters.


	7. The Field

Chapter 7: The Field

 _Bang. Bang. Bang._

Younger Harry had almost forgotten that other people existed in the future. For a moment, it felt as though the future was simply Older Harry, sitting by himself in his shack and meditating on the finer aspects of life and time travel. Nothing else had mattered but the smell of grass and the sun streaming through the window and the dust lines they studied on the floor.

"Open up, Harry Potter!" It was a woman's voice, and she did not sound happy. Younger Harry tried to listen to see if it was somebody he knew.

"Stay here," Older Harry demanded. The four were curious, but Older Harry could sense their reactions. "Remember- don't ask." With a creak, he left the shack.

"What are those?" they heard him ask the woman. The walls of the shack were quite thin.

"Sandwiches, those poor kids must be hungry." Younger Harry was reminded instinctively of Mrs. Weasley. _The poor dears must be hungry._

"You do remember who those kids are?"

"Yes, which is why I was wondering why the hell you stunned them, locked them in a shack, and are now starving them."

"They're in there for their own good-"

"You said that we were going to obliviate them anyway. Just let them sit in the house, give them something to eat, and let them relax."

Their voices faded out as they began whispering sharply to each other. It was the woman who eventually raised her voice.

"Okay, I'll do it. They should be here shortly."

There was the sound of grass crinkling under feet as the woman walked away. A few moments later, the door to the shack creaked open again, and Older Harry stuck his head in.

"Do I have your word that you won't try to run if I let you out?"

"Where are you taking us?" Ginny asked.

"To my house. Somebody has made you lunch."

"We won't run," Hermione assured him.

Older Harry nodded trustingly, opened the door, and beckoned them outside. Younger Harry was the last to exit the shack. They were all standing in a luscious green yard. The whole property was lined with trees, and yet the sun's rays still managed to kiss every part of it. Daffodils and tulips grew in bunches here and there, and Younger Harry noticed that somebody had planted a lot of lilies. Overlooking the yard was a nicely sized house. It was not a sprawling mansion like Malfoy Manor or a charming ragtag house like the Burrow, or even a pristine cookie-cutter residence like the Dursleys', but there was something serene about it that felt like refuge and home.

"Harry, look!" Ginny whispered. She pointed to their right. Behind the house was a giant patch of grass where no flowers were planted, and at each end stood three Quidditch goal hoops, about half the size of the ones at Hogwarts.

"A mini Quidditch pitch!" Ron was in awe. "Blimey, Harry, you must be rich in the future!"

Older Harry laughed. "I try to spend my money wisely." The five of them began to tread through the grass in the direction of the house.

"The lawns here are huge," Hermione whispered reverently, "I've always loved the smell of freshly mown grass."

"The house itself is relatively modest," Older Harry explained, "But the grounds are large and a place of endless adventure. That's one of the reasons why everyone calls this property the Field. It's a magical place where deer and wild h- I mean, other wild animals- can play."

"Just like your patronus!" Ginny noted, smiling. Older Harry nodded.

They had reached the side of the house. Older Harry walked around to the left, leading them to the front. The front had a driveway that led to a small garage, and the front steps led to a quaint little porch and a front door made of a dark wood.

Older Harry led them inside, and they found themselves in a comfortable sitting room. It was an open space, and Younger Harry could see the kitchen from the sitting room.

He could also see the middle-aged woman standing at the kitchen counter.

The four time travellers stared at her. There were small changes, of course. The years had added some wrinkles on her face. Her hair was not long but cut in a short, manageable style. Unlike Older Harry, though, she did not have a single gray hair on her head. Every hair was still a vibrant, flaming red.

"Ginny?" Ron asked.

The woman strode towards them with a tray of sandwiches. "I made lunch. The four of you must be hungry."

"They can eat in the study," Older Harry said, ushering them to a room off the hall, their mouths still agape. Their feet tapped on the wooden floor as they entered. A desk stood at the center, piled with files. There was even a safe for files on delicate matters. The room was peppered with bookshelves, but in the corner stood a small, old couch with a coffee table in front of it. Older Ginny placed the tray on the coffee table and made to turn away, but Older Harry stopped her.

"I have some things to attend to." He looked at her significantly. "Do you think you could stay here with them?"

She looked conflicted. "But Harry-"

"You'll be fine. Just don't answer significant questions. And eat; you haven't had anything for lunch." Older Harry left, shutting the door behind them. Older Ginny sighed.

"So, can we eat now?" Ron asked. Older Ginny rolled her eyes and nodded.

Younger Harry didn't realize how much of an appetite he had developed, and Older Ginny made little sandwiches exactly the way that Mrs. Weasley did. They sat in silence, the four of them sitting on the sofa while Older Ginny sat opposite them on the floor. She waited for them to start eating before she picked up one of the sandwiches for herself.

Ron broke the silence. "So Harry and Ginny _are_ together in the future?"

"We shouldn't assume anything, Ronald."

"But, Hermione, she has a ring on her finger. Look!" Younger Ginny gasped, and Older Ginny surreptitiously covered her left hand with her right, saying nothing.

"That doesn't mean anything, Ronald! For all we know, the ring is an accessory, or she's married to someone else and she and Harry are just friends, or she and Harry _are_ married but their marriage isn't a happy one."

"No," Younger Ginny retorted, "You heard what Harry said, about how he thought of me in the War. Harry and I didn't stay together so that our relationship could be destroyed, right?" She turned to Older Ginny hopefully.

"She's not going to answer you," Hermione interjected. "Ginny, I'm just saying that things in the future change, and you might have to resign yourself to the fact that the future Ginny-"

"Stop."

Older Ginny scowled at Hermione. "First of all, I'm right here. I can hear you. Second, I can't answer your questions, but if you were to _accidentally_ see my ring- which I never take off, by the way- then nobody could blame me." She placed her ring on her palm and presented it to Younger Ginny. "Take a look."

Younger Ginny took it and slowly turned it in her fingers.

"There's an engraving inside of it," Younger Ginny murmured, "'To my dearest Lily. Love, James.'" She glanced at Harry, and then looked up at Older Ginny, "So Harry and I do get married in the future!"

"I can't specifically answer questions, but…why else would I be wearing that?"

Something inside of Younger Harry seemed to emerge into realization. He knew that he most certainly imagined being with Ginny for the rest of his life, but for some reason his teenage brain, so grounded in the here and now, could not fathom that they would ever be married, that someday they would be a middle-aged husband and wife living together in a quaint little house. He felt that same feeling in his stomach again, the kind he had whenever Ginny cuddled Teddy.

"Where did I find this- or, where will I find this?"

Older Ginny smiled reminiscently. "I don't see any harm in answering that. A few years from your time, you're going to find it in your parents' vault. It will give you the inspiration to propose. It was one of the happiest days of my life." She turned to Hermione. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. The press always tries to make pessimistic assumptions about my marriage, and statements like that tend to hit a nerve."

"The press is still following me in the future?" Harry sighed agitatedly.

She smiled wryly. "I'm afraid so. It doesn't help that you still continue to be brilliant in the future," she joked.

"Speaking of- where did the future me go?"

Older Ginny glanced at the door. "Again, I can't answer that. But I can ask you something: Harry, what would you do if you were all by yourself, alone, suddenly facing a shocking situation, a situation that might be the difference between life and death? What would _you_ do?"

"I mean, I would call Ron and Hermione, wouldn't I? I would be dead without them." He looked between his best friends, and they smiled back at him. Older Ginny smiled tellingly.

"Then that's exactly what future Harry is doing," Younger Ginny guessed, "He's getting Ron and Hermione to help him."

She had scarcely uttered his name when he came barreling through the study door. Without saying a word, he kneeled next the safe and prodded it with his wand, whispering incantations under his breath. After a second, he feverishly opened it and produced the metronome.

"What's going on?" Older Ginny asked.

"We're going to be taking a trip to Scotland."

"Scotland?"

"Hermione's found the only person who can help us- and he's in Hogsmeade."

* * *

There you have it! Chapter 7! I can assure you that Chapter 8 will be more action-packed and mysterious than this last chapter. In addition, here's an interesting endnote: The Field is a metaphor for Harry and Ginny's peace and tranquility. Older Harry almost mentioned something about deer and wild horses playing together in the Field, but had to stop himself because Ginny's patronus is a horse and he did not want to reveal too much. Obviously, the Potters do not actually have wild horses wandering into their backyard.


	8. The Unspeakable Speaks

Chapter 8: The Unspeakable Speaks

Older Harry beckoned out the door. "We all need to move. Now."

"Are we in danger?" Older Ginny asked. Unlike Younger Ginny, there was something in her ways that seemed to indicate that she had not met a truly dangerous situation in years.

"I don't think we're in danger yet, but this weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend for Hogwarts students. It means that if any of them get caught or seen, we can try to put them off as students. But we can only do that within Hogsmeade weekend hours, so we need to move quickly."

"How do we get there? The floo?" Ron asked.

"No, Ron, it's easier for the Ministry to detect our movements, and we do not need anyone finding out that you are here."

"Why?"

Hermione sniffed in frustration. "We must not be seen, Ron!"

Older Harry leaned towards them. "It's a little more than that. I'm going to be honest with you now: I am Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and I have helped to put away multiple serial killers and Pureblood extremists throughout my career. If what we are doing becomes public, and Harry was to get hurt and never get back home, then many people will die."

Older Ginny surveyed him. "You know what? That's probably the most credit he's ever given himself."

"So, how are we getting there?" Younger Hermione asked.

"Illegal portkey," Older Harry answered nonchalantly, "It's outside. I know the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, so on the off chance that we get caught I can get off easy and he can keep quiet."

"Who's the head?" Younger Ginny asked.

"Percy."

"Percy?!" They chorused.

Older Harry seemed to have remembered his own rules. "Damn! I shouldn't have told you that!"

Older Harry guided the time travellers and his wife outside, where a witch and wizard were already standing around a used soda can.

"Ron? Hermione?" Younger Harry gasped.

Ron and Hermione, it seemed, were also destined to age nicely. They both had small crinkles under their eyes and around their mouths. Ron looked more confident and less slouchy, and Older Hermione's hair was slightly less bushy.

"In the flesh, Harry," Older Hermione said, looking at Younger Harry in awe.

Older Ron appraised Younger Harry, smiling. "I almost forgot what he looked like before the gray patches started setting in."

"Oi!" Older Ginny retorted, "I think the gray makes him look sophisticated." The end of her sentence sounded very much like a purr, and Younger Ron cringed dramatically. "What's worse than seeing my sister fawn over my best mate is knowing she's destined to do it in the future too."

"And you'll be destined to deal with it for the rest of your life," Older Ron sighed. "Just wait until they start having sex."

Younger Harry and Ginny turned scarlet, while Younger Ron turned a shade of purple. Younger Harry had not thought about _that._

"Ron! They're just kids!" exclaimed Older Hermione.

"I think my past self has a right to know-"

"Can the both of you shut up?" Older Harry asked, "I'm trying to get this portkey started." He tapped the soda can and whispered, " _Portus."_ The can glowed and he nodded to them. "Everyone touch the portkey. Quickly."

All of them scurried to put a finger on the used can. Younger Harry suddenly felt a strong tug in his midsection and the feeling that he was being pulled through space.

The young time travellers fell with a thump on the ground, while their older selves landed gently beside them. They were on a deserted lane in Hogsmeade, the same one that they had taken to meet Sirius when he was disguised as Snuffles years ago.

"Before we get into town," Older Harry instructed, "you lot need to be disguised for good measure. Disillusionment Charms should work for Harry and Ron." He tapped Younger Ron and Harry on the head, and Younger Harry felt as though an egg had been cracked over his head, dripping down his body. "And Hermione and Ginny will be small enough to use this together." Older Harry produced something silky from his robes and handed it to Younger Hermione.

"The invisibility cloak!" Younger Harry gasped as Ginny and Hermione slipped it on and disappeared.

"Old habits die hard." Older Harry grinned. His tone then turned directorial. "The man we need to find works at Dominic Maestro's Music Shop. His name is Darren Bode. Let's go." The older four started walking down the lane towards the town, while their younger selves followed.

"Bode?" Younger Hermione asked. She sounded like a disembodied voice under the cloak. "Any relation to Broderick Bode?"

"He's his son," Older Hermione answered.

"You mean that Unspeakable bloke that got strangled in our fifth year?" Younger Ron asked. Younger Harry could tell that he was somewhere on his left.

Older Hermione nodded. "The very same. When Harry told me what was going on, I knew that we had to ask for help from an Unspeakable. The problem is that we could risk this entire operation if the Unspeakable was still employed with the Ministry. Unspeakables are secretive with other Ministry departments, but they aren't with each other. If we deferred to an active Unspeakable for help, your secret might be out to the whole Department of Mysteries by sundown."

They had reached the center of the little town now. Younger Harry was amazed. It seemed that twenty-three years had done nothing to change Hogsmeade weekends. Students still bustled around, excitedly showing each other their purchases or eating their Honeydukes sweets. Nearby, blushing couples left Madam Puddifoot's in high spirits or tears. However, he was acutely aware of shop vendors and students staring at their future selves as they passed, some of them pointing, some of them whispering.

An older Madam Rosmerta waved to Older Hermione from outside the Three Broomsticks. "Good day, Madam Minister." Older Hermione smiled and waved back. Younger Harry heard a gasp beside him, presumably from Younger Hermione.

Older Hermione turned to Older Ron, "You weren't staring at her, were you?"

"When I have you by my side, Darling? Never." He grinned cheekily, putting an arm around her, "I'm married to the bloody brilliant Minister."

"Wait," Younger Ron and Hermione called in unison.

"I'm going to be Minister?"

"I'm going to marry Hermione?"

Older Hermione huffed at her husband. "Ronald! I told you not to tell them too much!"

Older Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Older Harry looked agitated. "We don't have time for this, you two. Look, there's the Music Shop." He pointed to a store with a self-playing violin in the window. Younger Harry followed their older counterparts into the shop.

A bell tinkled as they entered, and Younger Harry was met with the varnished smell that could only come from expensive musical instruments. Three students in Hufflepuff robes surrounded a grand piano as their friend played a peaceful tune. Self-playing tambourines shook restlessly in a corner as the Hufflepuff stole their limelight. Another group of teenagers in Muggle attire stood in front of a display of Unbreakable Guitar Strings. "I really need these," one of them murmured.

The eight of them moved to the front counter, where a man in his fifties was polishing a harmonica.

"We need to speak to Darren Bode," Older Ginny said to him.

The man did not look at Older Ginny, but glanced suspiciously between Older Hermione's face and Older Harry's scar, still polishing. "What would the Minister for Magic and her favorite hero want with Darren Bode?"

"It's about an old project from the Department of Mysteries," Older Hermione murmured.

The man placed the harmonica on the counter and motioned to one of his colleagues, an elderly man. "Ed? Man the counter for a while, will you?" The man named Ed headed to the counter.

"Follow me," The man said, pulling back a curtain behind the counter that led to another room.

It was a large back room with crates of old or antique instruments. The man turned to them, hands on hips, "I'm Darren Bode. What's this about?"

Older Hermione took an official tone. "Mr. Bode, we need your help identifying a misplaced item from the Department of Mysteries."

"I don't give a rat's arse about the Department. I retired years ago."

"Which is why we need your help," Older Hermione argued. "This is a, um, delicate matter, and we can't risk anyone at the Ministry knowing about this."

"What are you playing at? No. I left so I wouldn't have to deal with things like this. So unless you've-"

Younger Ginny threw the invisibility cloak off of herself and Younger Hermione. Bode jumped back, screamed, and almost collided with a crate of instruments.

"Ginny!" Younger Hermione pleaded, horrified.

"Look at us, Mr. Bode," Younger Ginny demanded, "Do you know who we are?"

Bode stood up, shaking a little, gathering his bearings. "You look like them." He pointed to Older Hermione and Ginny. "But younger." His eyes widened in realization, and he turned to Older Hermione. "So that's what this is? Time travel? These two have travelled into the future?"

"They're not the only ones," Younger Harry said. Older Harry cast a spell in their general direction, and Younger Harry and Ron were free of the Disillusionment Charm.

"You cottoned on quickly," Younger Ron noted, "It took us ages to believe future Harry when he told us."

"I'm a retired Unspeakable," Darren argued, "I've seen about every strange thing you can imagine. Speaking of- what is this object that you want me to see?"

Older Harry produced the metronome from his robes and handed it to Bode.

Bode turned it over in his hands, delicately. There was a spark of recognition in his eyes. "I remember this."

"So you've worked with it before?" Older Harry asked.

"Oh, more than that. I was the one who came up with the idea."

"So what exactly is it?" Younger Hermione asked.

"When I was a young man and I first started working for the Department of Mysteries years ago, I had an idea for an invention. You see, after all of the time turners were destroyed, Rufus Scrimgeour, the new minister at the time, banned the production of more time turners, fearing that they would get in the hands of Death Eaters. However, the Department still wanted to experiment with time, and the best way around the time turner ban was to create an object that did the exact same thing as a time turner without looking like a time turner at all. This was difficult, as an object needs to act rhythmically to be considered a viable specimen to turn time."

"Act rhythmically?" Older Ginny inquired.

"Yes. For example, a regular time turner clicks as it spins on an axis. We needed to find an object that behaved similarly. Then I came into the picture. I had a love for music and had used metronomes before. I saw how they swayed rhythmically on a fixed point. So I mentioned the idea of using a metronome to the head of the Department of Mysteries, and the next day they had procured one and had started testing Hour Reversal Charms on it. The experiment was eventually abandoned due to post-war budget cuts."

Older Hermione frowned. "But this isn't a simple Hour Reversal Charm. This metronome brings you years into the future!"

"Precisely. We learned that Hour Reversal Charms could be sped up and manipulated, such that they resembled something akin to a Year Advancement Charm, which does not exist in a direct form."

"So now we know what it does," Younger Ron concluded. "But how do we get back?"

Darren pointed to the back of the metronome. "You see these tiny runes here? These runes need to be adjusted to the hieroglyphs that you need. They'll glow, and then you need to start the metronome. One beat per minute will take you back years, thirty beats per minute will take you back hours, sixty beats per minute is resting position, ninety beats per minute will take you forward hours and one-hundred-and-twenty beats per minute will take you years into the future. I assume that that is what happened when you came to the future."

"But you're saying that to travel years into the past, you need the right runes?" Older Hermione asked.

"Without the right runes displayed on the back, you might end up only a year or two in the past, or maybe forty years in the past. The beats dictate direction, but the runes are everything."

"So how do we know which runes will get us to the right year?"

"There are two ways to do that," Darren explained, "A hard way and an easy way. The hard way is to use the metronome to get to the right year, and then look at the runes and see what they are."

Younger Ron snorted. "But you can't get to the right year unless you have the right runes in the first place, so what's the point of that?"

Darren smiled "Which is why there's the easy way. You just-"

He didn't have time to explain, however. He hardly had time to scream as the jet of green light hit him in the chest.

Darren Bode lay spread-eagled on the floor, dead as his father.

* * *

Dum dum dum! This is my longest chapter so far, and although it isn't at uniform length with my other chapters, I figured that anybody who likes this story wouldn't mind. Will update soon, as always!


	9. Harry Potter's Greatest Weakness

Chapter 9: Harry Potter's Greatest Weakness

Darren Bode's eyes stared at the ceiling, absent and unblinking. Older Harry quickly tore the metronome from his dead hands. Screams could be heard from the front of the shop as hooded wizards encroached on the storeroom. There was an ominous _pop_ and several of them apparated behind the group. They were surrounded.

The eight of them drew their wands as the hooded figures pointed theirs. A hooded witch stepped forward.

"Hand us the time turner, Harry Potter."

"You really think you can face us?" Older Ron asked. "One senior auror, one retired auror, two aurors in training, and four war veterans? I hope you wrote your will."

"I do not underestimate any of you, Ron Weasley. That is the greatest flaw, is it not, to underestimate your opponent? Rather than fight you, we would find it easier to use your weaknesses against you."

The woman turned to one of her colleagues. "Bring them in."

The man nodded and exited the storeroom. A violent scuffling could be heard in the front of the shop.

"While we were watching you converse with our dear friend Darren Bode, we met some new friends: five bright young Hogwarts students."

The man returned with more of his peers, each dragging a kicking and screaming teenager across the wooden floor. The four adults turned white.

"No!" Older Ginny shouted desperately.

"Mum! Mum!" The smallest of the five shouted. It was a young girl with a long sheet of red hair. In between shouting for her mother she was fiercely attempting to bite the man holding her.

And she looked just like Ginny.

Younger Harry looked at the other four kids. There were two more redheads: a tall girl with bushy hair and a freckly young boy. The other two were boys with dark hair, one of them a brunet with freckles and the other a skinny boy with jet-black hair, a boy who looked exactly like Harry.

Could it be?

"If you touch a hair on their heads, " Older Harry snarled, "We'll-"

"You'll what?" The woman sneered. "It appears we are in control here. Now, hand us the time turner device, or you can say goodbye to your darling babies. You have thirty seconds to decide what is most important."

Older Harry looked across at the five kids. "Don't do it, Dad!" The brown-haired boy shouted.

The woman smirked. "Twenty seconds."

"Fine!" Older Harry conceded, raising the metronome in the air, "Just- just don't hurt them." Younger Harry could see a chasm of vulnerability in his eyes, the kind that he himself only possessed when Death Eaters threatened his friends. One of the hooded wizards flicked his wand, and the metronome flew out of Older Harry's grasp. The assailants on the teenagers roughly pushed them and their wands into the circle, towards the four adults.

One of the figures handed the metronome to the woman, and, just like Bode, she examined it closely.

"How rude of me. This isn't proper etiquette. If one must threaten a man's family, one must give him proper explanation. My plans, of course, are a secret, but my motives are transparent: no human being has the right to interfere with the cosmic force that is time. Time is an element that only God controls, like the creation of man or the natural force of weather. Harry Potter of the Past, you will pay for playing God with our universe."

The woman and her cronies spun on their heels and apparated.

"Harry Potter of the Past?" the busy-haired girl asked, puzzled. The five teenagers and the four time travellers were staring at each other intensely.

"We need to go," Older Ginny advised. "It won't take long before the authorities surround this building."

"But doesn't Harry own the authorities?" Younger Ron asked.

"If the Department finds out I was here they'll ask even more questions," Older Harry answered, "All thirteen of us can't do side-along apparition or use an illegal portkey to a single place, so where are we going to go?"

"The place where everyone hides in Hogsmeade," Older Hermione answered.

To avoid suspicion, the group left in batches of four or five, no longer caring for invisibility, sneaking along deserted Hogsmeade lanes until they reached the fence that separated the Shrieking Shack from its visitors. All of them were able to dodge the fence and enter the Shack without detection.

Harry had never had happy memories of the Shrieking Shack. This was the place where Sirius tried to explain his innocence after dragging Ron inside, as well as the place where Voldemort ordered his snake to murder Snape. It was like the Shack was somehow frozen in time, the weight of old tragic memories lying upon it like the dust on its floorboards.

"Can somebody please explain what is going on!" The freckly redheaded boy exclaimed once they had reached the safety of the Shack.

"Yeah, I'd like an explanation," Younger Ron said, "Like, who are these kids?"

"The better question is, who are _you_?" The bushy-haired girl asked.

"Dear Merlin," Older Ginny sighed. She turned to Older Harry. "We need to tell them. All of them."

Older Harry stood up. The five teenagers looked at him expectantly. "Twenty-three years ago was the third of April, 1999. The War had been over for eleven months, and our teenage selves found a device to accidentally travel forward in time. This is them." Older Harry pointed to Younger Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny while the adolescents stared open-mouthed at them.

"Harry, you could have explained that a little slower!" Older Hermione chastised.

"We don't have time to explain this whole situation for the third time today," Older Harry grumbled.

"So, those five are going to be our- our _children_ in the future?" Younger Ginny asked. Everyone turned to her in surprise. "I'm not dim; I heard what that woman said! I saw how all of you looked at them. Mum looked at me the same way when she saw me fighting Bellatrix at the Battle of Hogwarts. I saw them and I just _knew."_

 **"** Harry, Ginny," Older Ginny said in almost a whisper, "Years from now, you are going to have three children. The eldest will be James." She gestured to the brunet boy. "Next will be Albus." She gestured to the boy that looked exactly like Harry. "The baby of the family is Lily." She motioned to the girl with the sheet of perfect red hair. The three made no sign of acknowledgement, but continued to stare at Younger Harry and Ginny, shocked.

"Ron and Hermione," Older Ginny said, "You will eventually have two children. Rose," she gestured to the bushy-haired girl, "and Hugo." She gestured to the freckly redheaded boy.

Younger Harry didn't know what to think. This was different than finding out that he would marry Ginny someday. Much different. These were three new human beings. His eyes swept from Lily's brown eyes to Albus's hair to the freckles on James's nose. He knew he was young, but it suddenly all made sense; seeing his relatives in the Mirror of Erised in his first year, watching Ginny caring for Teddy, accepting his own room at the Burrow.

He had _always_ wanted a family of his own. He just hadn't realized it.

There was one important thing that he desperately needed to know, though.

"Where's Teddy?" Younger Harry asked his older self, "Did you- I mean, do I end up taking care of him like I promised?"

Older Harry smiled. "I won't tell you everything, but see for yourself." He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Younger Harry. Younger Harry realized that it was a photo. Every member of the picture was grinning. Older Harry and Ginny held each other tightly as James, Albus, and Lily smiled from the front. A young man with turquoise hair was laughing and hugging Lily while changing the color of his eyebrows. Younger Harry stared at the photo, transfixed, wishing that his life could be this good _now._

"James has brown hair. Is that a Potter thing?" Younger Ginny suddenly asked.

Older Ginny surveyed her eldest son, who was still in a bit of disbelief. "Surprisingly, yes. Harry has quite a lot of brunette ancestors."

"Um…" Younger Ron hesitated, staring at the girl named Rose. "Am I- I mean, do I- never mind."

"Come on," Rose insisted, surveying him kindly, "I might be in shock, but I can still answer a question. What is it?"

Younger Ron shifted his feet awkwardly across the dusty floor. "Am I going to be a good parent? I mean, I spent half my time at Hogwarts calling the first years midgets, and I've only changed Teddy's nappy once and it was horrible."

Older Hermione gave him a little smile, and then locked eyes with her husband. "Ron, when the time comes, you'll be ready. We all grow up, and you'll be a great man someday."

"You're really pretty," Younger Ron murmured to Rose, turning red, "You look like Hermione." Younger Hermione blushed fiercely and looked away from him.

"How are they getting back to their time?" James asked, "If younger Mum and Dad don't go back, they won't have the fabulous _moi."_ He covered his mouth in mock shock. Despite the situation, everyone laughed.

"We need the metronome," Older Harry murmured, "but that witch and her goons stole it from us."

"We might have something," Albus said. He pulled a tiny circular object from his pocket. "When I was struggling with one of those hooded blokes, I managed to rip one of the buttons off of his coat. It's got some kind of design on it." He handed the button to his mother.

"Al's right. There's some kind of symbol on this. Wait a second-" Older Ginny held the button up to the light. "This is from the DMLE!"

"DMLE?" Younger Ginny asked.

"Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Older Hermione answered, "Harry, you know what this means: some of those people work for _you_. For _us._ "

Older Harry turned white. "My own department." He turned to their past counterparts. "We're going to investigate the DMLE. We'll find that witch, we will find the metronome, and you _will_ go home."


	10. The Archives

Hey guys! I just wanted to say that I read every single review, and your feedback has really helped to keep me motivated while writing this story. So, thank you! I also saw an interesting question that paulaa90 posed: did Fuhrman volunteer at the Easter Cleanup Event? She did, actually. Even though she did not fight at the Battle of Hogwarts and never went to Hogwarts, her 'origins story' has to do with her involvement in the War. I'll leave it at that.

So, without further ado…Chapter Ten!

* * *

Chapter 10: The Archives

Older Ginny stepped out of the fire in the Field's living room. Night was falling quickly outside. "The kids got to Hogwarts safely."

All thirteen of them had left the Shrieking Shack. Ginny had taken the kids back to Hogwarts for their safety, while the others had apparated in groups back to the Field.

"What did you tell them?" Older Harry asked.

"That if there are dark wizards out to kill us, then the safest place for them is at Hogwarts, and that they shouldn't be involved in all of this time travel business."

Older Ron smiled wryly. "I'm sure they were really happy about that."

"They were fuming, but there is no question about it. They can't come with us. We're not risking their safety."

"Exactly," Older Harry agreed. "Although, knowing our children, I wouldn't be surprised if they escaped school."

"Way ahead of you. I told McGonagall to keep an eye on them."

"McGonagall is still headmistress?" Younger Ron asked, biting into one of the apples from a nearby fruit bowl.

"Still going strong," Older Ron answered, "Our kids haven't made her retire yet!"

Older Harry shuffled some papers on the coffee table in front of him, examining them closely.

"Remind me why we have to infiltrate the DMLE archives for employment files?" said Older Ron, "Can't you just make your secretary Jason do it for us? It's more of a risk if we all go."

"Jason doesn't have the clearance to access some of those files," Older Harry noted, still staring at his documents. "If we want to find out who that woman is, I have a feeling it's in a restricted file relating to previous criminal records or workplace incidents. We all need to stick together, and we need multiple people to comb through several years worth of files without mysteriously removing them from the archives."

"Security has increased since the War," Older Hermione explained to the time travellers, "Even as head of the DMLE, Harry is limited as to the number of files he can check out at a time. If he took all of the work incident and criminal reports from the past several years, he would get caught. The same rule applies to me."

"How are we going to get in there, though?" Younger Ginny asked, "The four of you can just waltz in to the Ministry because you work there. But we can't. We can't even use Disillusionment Charms because a hall full of trained aurors will see right through that, right?"

"Ron and I don't work for the Ministry," Older Ginny interjected.

Younger Ron's face fell. "Wait, I won't be an auror?"

"Will I ever be a Quidditch player?" Younger Ginny asked hopefully.

"Well, you see," explained Older Ron, "Ginny and I-"

"Focus, everyone!" Older Hermione huffed. "Ronald, we can't give them explanations right now. This infiltration is time sensitive."

"Right, we need to get the metronome back as soon as possible," Younger Harry agreed.

"It's not just that, Harry," Older Hermione said, producing two vials from her robes and placing them on the coffee table. "Ginny was right. We can't use Disillusionment Charms this time; the aurors are good at detecting them. Harry and my younger self are going to take Polyjuice Potion to turn into Weasley cousins- only these hairs are just from redheads in nearby villages. We get to the Ministry, and if anyone asks we'll say that the four of you are Weasleys visiting from out of town who wanted a tour of where Harry works. They won't notice Ron and Ginny from the past because they'll blend in. The later it gets, however, the more unusual that tour excuse becomes, which is why we need to leave soon."

"How did you get the potion?" Younger Hermione asked.

Older Hermione blushed. "Ever since Harry disguised himself as 'Cousin Barney' at Bill and Fleur's wedding, I decided that I was going to keep some redhead Polyjuice on hand, just in case."

"You wouldn't believe how many people fall for it," Older Ron added.

Older Harry stood up. "Drink up, you two."

Younger Harry and Hermione eyed the vials disgustedly, but obeyed nonetheless. Younger Harry felt the familiar feeling of nausea before he turned into a skinny redheaded boy, while Hermione turned into a short, curly-haired girl.

"Anyone need a change of clothes?" Older Ginny asked.

"I'm fine," Younger Harry said.

"I'm not," Younger Hermione complained, her jeans hanging off of her, "This girl's smaller than me."

"I'll see if I can get you some of mine." Older Ginny trotted upstairs.

Minutes later, the group flooed into the Ministry Atrium. As it was a Sunday night, everything seemed quiet. One guard sat at a desk near the entrance to the lifts.

"Mr. Potter! Bringing the whole family?" he laughed.

"Cousins from out of town, Steve. They wanted a tour of my office."

"I guess they would, if their cousin was Harry Potter," he chuckled, "Go right ahead." The man waved them through without giving them a single security check.

The eight of them piled into the lift and Older Ron hit the button for floor two.

"Level Two: Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Wizengamot Administration Services, Auror Headquarters, and Muggle Protection Office," The cool female voice announced.

"Where are the archives?" Younger Harry asked.

"The Administrative Registration Department," Older Harry answered. "Through here."

He went through a set of oak double doors and entered a long hall. He led them past multiple closed doors until they reached a room with no door. Instead there was a large open doorway and a brass sign above it that read 'Administrative Registration Archives'.

Older Harry glanced through the doorway and jumped back, causing everyone to bump into him.

"It's just as I thought." Older Harry murmured.

Younger Hermione frowned. "What is it?"

"The Archives don't usually have security stationed at the front desk on Sunday evenings. They just close up the doorway. Unless, of course, some security guard has nothing to do on his weekend and wants to do overtime."

"So there's security now?" Younger Ginny guessed.

"Exactly. It's Jack." The moment he said this, Older Hermione, Ron, and Ginny cringed.

"Who's Jack?" Younger Ron asked.

"Well, he's like Neville before Neville was cool," Older Ron answered, "Except our age. And worse."

"How dare you compare _him_ to Nev," Older Ginny chided.

"We need a distraction," Older Hermione said, "Any ideas?"

"Does anyone have a Decoy Detonator?" Younger Hermione suggested.

"I'm afraid we can't use those," Older Harry said, "They've become so popular in our time that everyone knows what they sound like. They're only good as toys now."

Older Ron smirked. "I know what we can do."

"Yeah?"

"We need a distraction. And we just so happen to have the person who distracts Jack the most."

Older Harry glared at him.

"No," Older Ginny objected, "I'm not doing it."

"What's going on?" Younger Ginny asked.

"Jack's always fancied Ginny," Older Ron blurted out.

Older Harry turned red, "So have several other men in the Department. I'm not letting my wife-"

"But Harry, it's the perfect distraction! Ginny talks to him long enough to let all of us sneak in, and then we can stay in the archives until the Polyjuice expires! Plus, she's a brilliant liar."

"I still won't-"

"Fine. I'll do it." Older Ginny shook her hair, straightened her blouse, and turned into the Archives before Older Harry could say anything. He looked after her in shock.

"Oh, hi, Ginny! Harry with you?" They heard a man's nasally voice ask. Younger Harry peaked around the corner. Although the man was in his forties, he had issues with acne. There were a couple of stains on his work shirt and his tie was too loose. Behind him were shelves and shelves of legal files.

"No, Jack. I'm here by myself. My husband's at home working on a case. We're both really into late night work. Speaking of- I really need your help with something."

"Anything for you, Love."

Older Harry made a quiet sound of protest and clenched his fists.

"I was hoping that the Archives were open tonight so that I could work on an article about criminal cases. It's about attacks on audience members or players at major Quidditch matches. Are those public record?"

"Well, no, only the newspaper clippings, really." Jack leaned over the counter, "But between you and me, I could let you in, take a look at the actual case files. How's that sound?"

"That would be lovely, Jack."

Older Ginny's shoes clicked across the floor as Jack guided her back amongst the shelves.

"Come on," Older Ron whispered. One by one, the rest of them snuck past the empty desk and over to the shelves, Older Harry leading the way. Instead of turning left, in Ginny and Jack's direction, he turned right. There were no signs, just serial numbers for cases. However, it seemed that this was all Older Harry needed to navigate the shelves. At some point they seemed to have arrived at the right number, because Older Harry stopped and fingered one of the shelves.

" _Muffliato."_ He murmured.

"One security guard?" Younger Ron asked, "I thought there was supposed to be more security than this in the future."

"There is," Older Harry answered, "Anyone that isn't me or Hermione or some other important Ministry official might sound an alarm. But we have clearance, so we can enter this area with guests without triggering the system."

"No, it's fine, Jack. I think I can handle it on my own." Older Ginny's voice echoed across the Archives.

"Well, if you're sure, then." They could hear the shuffling of his feet as he walked back to his desk.

Older Ginny appeared a few moments later. "Merlin, this place is huge. I didn't think I would find you lot. By the way, can I just say that Jack gives me the creeps?"

"Can I just say that this is the last time my wife will be around Jack?"

"Love, we've been over this," she said saucily, "Other men can look, but only you can have me-"

"Harry, we need those files!" Older Ron hissed.

"Right then. We've got the criminal cases of current and previous employees here." He handed a giant box of files to Younger Hermione, who almost fell under its weight. "And here we have the workplace incident reports of current and previous employees from the past several years." He handed another large box to Younger Harry. "Come with me."

They walked down the aisle, towards the back of the Archives. There were several desks hiding behind the shelves, like the ones peppered around the Hogwarts library.

"I need you to find anything that stands out," he said, "Any instances in which a DMLE employee had strong opinions about time travel. Any workplace conflicts with Department of Mysteries employees. Things like that."

The four of them sat for what felt like ages combing through files. It was completely quiet, except for the sounds of Jack slurping tea at the front desk or the occasional interjection.

"There's something here," Younger Ron exclaimed, "Some woman got a group of people to wear creepy hoods and walk around the Muggle Protection Office together! Could that be her?"

Younger Hermione examined the file. "No, it wouldn't. That was a Halloween prank that was pulled by one of the interns."

"How about this?" Younger Harry said, "A DMLE employee got dismissed for using a metronome… oh wait, she was just a noisy guitar player."

Older Hermione sighed, "We're coming up with nothing. Is there any other way that we can find the metronome?"

"Even if we found it," Younger Hermione reasoned, "How are we supposed to use it? Bode didn't give us any useful information. Use the right runes to go back so that you can see what the right runes are? That makes no sense!"

"Yeah, it's like a whole chicken and egg thing," Younger Ron agreed.

"Chicken and egg? Ron- you're a genius!"

"I don't get it," He said.

"Harry from the future says that time is like a circular loop, yes?"

"I did," Older Harry answered.

"And that whatever we experience, he has already experienced."

"Where is this going?" Older Ron asked.

"It means that, years ago, the four of us from the future already succeeded in getting back home!" Older Hermione answered.

"I get it. So that means that the future versions of ourselves have already used the metronome and used the right runes, even though they don't remember it!" Younger Ginny exclaimed.

"Which means," Younger Hermione concluded, "that we need to find someone who saw the metronome and the runes after our future selves used it."

Younger Harry turned to their future counterparts, "When the four of you left the storage room on the Easter of 1999, do any of you remember if there was someone who went into the room next? If you passed by someone on your way out?"

They shook their heads. Older Ron gave a sympathetic smile. "Harry, it's been over twenty years since the Cleanup for us. We hardly remember what we did that day, let alone if somebody passed us on the way to the storeroom."

Older Ginny gasped. "I do. I remember! There _was_ someone who passed us, and that person was going _into_ the storeroom. I remember we even talked to that person as they passed us!"

"And who was that?" Younger Harry asked. The time travellers were eying her excitedly.

Older Ginny bit her lip. "I- I don't remember _who_ it was. I just remember that they were there."

"If only we had a Penseive or something," Younger Ginny added disappointedly.

For the first time in hours, Older Harry smiled. "As a matter of fact, we do."


	11. The Woman in the Memory

Chapter 11: The Woman in the Memory

The four adults and their teenage counterparts headed down a dark hallway. They had managed to sneak past Jack, and Older Harry had led them down the corridor to Auror Headquarters, stopping them along the way if he thought that they would be noticed by too many aurors, turning instead and leading them through strange deserted back areas.

"The Auror Headquarters has a Penseive room that it uses to analyze memories from investigations," Older Harry explained as they hurried down the hall, "We're going to need to be quick, though, because the Polyjuice Potion will wear off soon." He suddenly stopped in front of a door with frosted glass on the front but no sign. "Here we are. Get in quickly."

The eight of them piled into the dark room. It was dimly lit, and almost completely empty except for the large stone basin standing on a pedestal in the middle. The shimmery liquid in the basin glinted and reflected playfully off of the ceiling, as if it had never shown its users crime, murder, or death. Younger Harry knew better though; he had seen just as many horrible things in Dumbledore's Penseive.

Older Ginny placed her wand to her temple and withdrew a long thread of gleaming memory, whisking it into the basin. She beckoned to them, and each of them in turn bent down to let the liquid swallow their faces.

Younger Harry was surprised that all of them could lean into the small surface of the Penseive, but surely enough, he too had enough space to let the liquid take him, to feel the sensation that it was swallowing him until he was falling through the fabric of memory…

 _The hallway of the Department of Magical Transportation was relatively quiet. The rain beat on the surface of the enchanted windows dolefully as a volunteer exited the lift wearing a lanyard around her neck. This was the Ministry of the past._

 _Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny exited the storeroom, rubbing their heads._

 _"Can we choose somewhere else to volunteer after lunch?" Ron asked, "I don't want to be anywhere near that metro-thingy."_

 _Hermione sighed. "It's called a metronome, Ronald! Although I do agree with you; it was quite noisy. No wonder it's being kept in a storeroom like that!"_

 _"It was like, one second we were looking at it and the next we were on the floor with massive headaches," Harry thought aloud._

 _The girl with the lanyard approached them. She was freakishly tall, her long dark hair in a messy ponytail. She was wearing a tank top that showed off her biceps and her favorite combat boots._

 _Her amber eyes watched Ron as she passed. "Wotcher, Weasley?" she asked, "Something wrong with your head?"_

"Fuhrman," Younger Harry said darkly as he watched the memory.

 _"Ron's just having a headache. We're all kind of having one, actually."_

 _"I didn't ask you, did I, Potter?"_

 _"So you're the cow Harry's been telling me about!" Ginny snarled, "You're Fuhrman!"_

 _Fuhrman looked her up and down, eying her curiously. "You might be a twat, Potter, but you have good taste in women. It's Ginny, is it?"_

 _"What's it to you?" Ginny spat._

 _Fuhrman shrugged coolly, "Nothing, I suppose. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a storeroom to clean." Fuhrman strolled past them, purposefully bumping into Harry, and entered the storage closet._

The eight of them lifted their heads from the basin abruptly. Younger Harry was still trying to process what he had just seen.

"It was Fuhrman," he said, "She was- or will be- the next person in the storeroom after us. She could have seen the metronome."

"And she could remember the runes," Older Ron surmised. "Good news is that Fuhrman's still alive and well in our time. We can ask her."

"But how can she remember them?" Younger Hermione asked, "Even if she did see the metronome and look at the tiny runes on it, how can Fuhrman from twenty-three years in the future remember any of that?

"One thing that Ron and the younger me will eventually find out through their work as auror trainees," Older Harry explained, "is that Fuhrman has an eidetic memory. It means that she has a perfect memory for certain images even after short exposure to them. That's how she did so well in auror training. Trust me, she'll remember."

"Except, will she even give us the runes?" Younger Ginny asked.

Younger Ron looked confused. "What do you mean, Ginny?"

"She's always hated Harry. You know that! From the very beginning she's tried to undermine him in everything she's done. What if Elise Fuhrman isn't the person who's going to help us? What if she was the person who got us here in the first place?"

"Ginny's right! It all fits!" Younger Harry exclaimed, "Fuhrman must have been the woman in the hood!"

Younger Hermione put a gentle hand on his shoulder, "But, Harry, the woman in the cloak was much too short to be Fuhrman. It can't be her."

"But she's _got_ to be involved in this somehow, right?" He turned to Older Harry for confirmation.

Their older counterparts stole furtive glances with each other.

"Wow, I forgot just how much you used to hate her," Older Ron mused.

"Used to?" Younger Harry said, puzzled.

Older Harry looked at him sympathetically. "I know that Fuhrman's being harsh with you, Harry, but she would never organize something like this. In our time, she's-"

"Who goes there? This room is aurors only!"

If it weren't for her height and her glaring amber eyes, Younger Harry might not have recognized the middle-aged Elise Fuhrman. Her long dark hair was cut shorter and neatly combed. She had done away with the auror training robes that showed off her muscles and tattoos and instead donned a blouse and professional slacks.

"It's me, Fuhrman!" Older Harry stepped closer to her, letting the dim light shine on him.

The amber eyes softened in a way that Younger Harry had never seen, and Fuhrman lumbered over to Older Harry, giving him a bear hug.

"Fuck, Potter. I was so worried!" She let go and gave hugs to Older Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. "Fernandez says that witnesses saw you lot enter Dominic's before some hooded figures attacked the shop. I tried to floo but you weren't at the Field. And who's this?"

She had finally spotted Younger Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Thankfully, Younger Harry and Hermione were still disguised as redheads.

"Cousins from out of town, Elise," Older Harry explained, "I was just showing them around." He turned to the four of them pointedly. "This is Elise Fuhrman, Head of the Auror Department."

"What idiot would appoint her Head of the Auror Department?" Younger Harry blurted out, enraged.

Even Older Harry glared at him. Fuhrman's nostrils flared. "Guess your Cousin Harry's an idiot, then."

What had happened in twenty-three years? Why would he, Harry, hire _Fuhrman_ as one of the most powerful people in the Ministry?

Older Hermione scampered to rectify the situation. "Please excuse our Cousin Barney, Elise. He's a bit, um, eccentric."

Fuhrman folded her arms. "I know the whole cousin story is rubbish. So I'll ask again: who _are_ they?"

"Oh no," Younger Hermione whimpered. She put a hand to her hair, watching it grow frizzier and browner before her eyes. Younger Harry could tell by the way that everyone was staring in horror that his hair was turning black again.

They couldn't run. There was nothing they could do as Younger Harry's hair turned jet-black and Younger Hermione shot up like a daisy. Before they knew it, they were back to normal and Fuhrman was staring at them, open-mouthed.

Older Hermione finally cleared her throat. "Now, there's a perfectly logical explanation for all of this."

Older Harry sighed. "We've got to tell her, Hermione."

"Tell me what?"

"We're- we're from the past," Younger Hermione explained, "And we just want to get back home."

Fuhrman paused to look at her. "How about we go to my office? I might need a drink."

Fuhrman's office wasn't a cubicle, like that of the junior aurors, but rather a sumptuous room with a leather chair and an oak desk. Much like Older Harry's desk at home, it was teaming with files. Fuhrman pulled out a bottle of Firewhisky from a cabinet and poured some for herself without drinking it, leaning back in her chair. The eight of them stared at her cautiously. Finally, she nodded affirmatively.

"Makes sense."

"'Makes sense'? How does this make sense to you?" Older Ginny asked.

"Elise," Older Harry said softly, "I'm not sure you understood."

She huffed. "I understand perfectly. These four are you lot, but from the past. They time travelled. I was here when they said it."

"That was quick," Older Ron said, "It took the four of them ages to get it."

"There's nothing to get," Fuhrman reasoned, "You lot exist. Time travel exists. Therefore, you lot can time travel. Simple."

"And you believe us- just like that?" Younger Ginny asked.

"Darling, I have an eidetic memory, and the four of you look _exactly_ like what the four of them used to look like." She pointed to their older counterparts. "Plus, when I was a trainee there was nobody who hated me more than Harry Potter. That's what really gave you away."

"That's because you're a bitch in my time!" Younger Harry exclaimed. Younger Hermione gasped. Every head turned sharply between him and Fuhrman, but she only laughed.

"Potter the Feminist, calling someone a bitch?"

"To Harry's credit, he wasn't as suave at eighteen," Older Ginny responded.

Fuhrman smirked. "You are correct, Potter- or Past Potter, whatever they call you- I was a bitch when I was a trainee. Still am, in some ways. But I'd lay my life down for the Potters. So I ask, how can I help?"

Younger Harry shook his head, "We can't let you help."

"Harry, we don't have time for this!" Older Harry exclaimed, "Just trust me when I say that Fuhrman would never do _anything_ to hurt you. Everything is better now."

"There's that word again: trust," Younger Harry snapped angrily, "Why should I? Why is everything better? Why are you friends with her now? Why did you even appoint her? Can somebody tell me _what the hell happened_?"

After a silence, Older Ginny turned to her husband, "You know how you get when you're stubborn like this. The past you is the same way. We can't do this if he doesn't know."

Older Harry looked into Younger Harry's green eyes, young but far too experienced for his age. He sighed. "Later in your year, you're going to be assigned as Fuhrman's partner on a case." He began to pace Fuhrman's office. "At the beginning, you're going to hate it."

"So will I," Fuhrman interjected.

"But the simple mission will turn life-threatening. In all of the commotion, you will save Elise from wanted Death Eaters. At some point, she will save you. In later years you won't remember how many times you had each other's backs or who saved whom first. What you will remember is that at the end of the mission, Fuhrman breaks down crying. And she turns into a different person."

He smiled at Fuhrman, and she smiled back with a melancholic, reminiscent look about her. "You see, Past Potter, I never went to Hogwarts, but I lost people in the War. I managed to save most of the people I cared for, but it took something out of me. Everywhere I turned as a young woman, people talked of the Battle of Hogwarts and the great Harry Potter. And that's why Past Fuhrman hates you, because she stupidly thinks that as long as you hold the limelight, as long as the Battle of Hogwarts holds the limelight, nobody will memorialize the people she lost in London." She frowned. "It never excused what I did to you. Or rather, what Past Fuhrman does to you."

"But after Elise opened up to me," Older Harry explained, "I realized she was one of the most loyal friends I ever had. She was still crude and she flirted with my wife-"

"I _still_ flirt with your wife, Potter." Older Ginny snorted and rolled her eyes.

"-But she's a great person. Human Resources doesn't like her, but the Weasleys and the Potters do. In the next year, Harry, you'll find that Elise Fuhrman has a bigger heart than you could ever know."

Fuhrman's eyes turned teary as she raised her glass of Firewhisky. "This one's for you, Potter," she whispered.

She threw back everything in the glass in one fell gulp and smacked her lips together.

Younger Harry knew that something was wrong before her smile had faded away. Small purple veins crept onto her face like insidious snakes. Her hands turned scaly as they lost all moisture.

She dropped to the floor, frothing at the mouth.

Elise Fuhrman's drink had been poisoned.


	12. Collateral Damage

Hey, everyone! I know it's been longer than my usual update time, but trust me, I haven't forgotten! This story will not be abandoned. And with that, here's Chapter 12.

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Chapter 12: Collateral Damage

Fuhrman writhed on the floor as her veins turned a dark plum color. She spluttered as froth dripped out of her mouth. The eight of them looked around frantically.

"What are we going to do?" Younger Ginny cried.

"Everyone calm down," Older Harry shouted as Older Ron hurried to Fuhrman's cabinet, "Elise always keeps a supply of bezoars near her Firewhisky."

"Harry." Older Ron fumbled through the drawers. "The bezoars are gone! Someone's taken them."

"The poisoning kit, then," Older Harry thought feverishly, "Every auror has a poisoning kit in their desk."

Older Ginny knelt to support Elise's head as Older Harry threw open the drawers of her handsome oak desk. "Here it is." He opened the kit in front of Elise's flailing body and hesitated.

"Well, _what are you waiting for?!"_ Younger Hermione shrieked.

Older Harry hesitated. "It's been years. I-I don't remember."

"But you're the Head of the DMLE!" she exclaimed, "You have to remember!"

Elise coughed violently and spat blood onto the floor.

"Root of asphodel brings down the heart rate," Younger Ron murmured.

"What?" Older Hermione asked.

"It's Liquid Senescence!" Younger Ron shouted, "And root of asphodel brings down the heart rate!" he summoned the roots from the kit and tossed them into Elise's mouth.

"Syrup of hellebore for mobility," Younger Harry continued, pouring the syrup down her throat.

"Flubberworm mucus!"

"Aconite!"

"And shrivelfig," Older Harry exclaimed, placing it in Fuhrman's mouth and closing her jaw.

Her body shook feebly before she settled in Older Ginny's arms, breathing slowly. The purple veins disappeared and gave way to pink as the froth subsided. She closed her eyes, unconscious but alive.

A few hours later, they were back at the Field, once again sitting in the living room. Younger Harry appreciated his future home and its feeling of comfort, but he was beginning to pine for action. When would they leave the Field to catch the hooded woman and take back the metronome?

There was a loud _pop_ outside, and Older Harry entered through the front door.

"She's stable. The Saint Mungo's healers gave her an antidote and a sleeping drought."

"And a security detail?" Younger Harry asked.

"Yes. Her position would require her to have one anyway. The good news is that her husband believes that she's been injured in her regular Ministry efforts as Head Auror, so the four of you are safe from suspicion. For now, at least. The press is going to have a field day when they find out she was poisoned."

"She has a husband?" Younger Ron asked, "I thought that maybe-"

"She's bisexual," Older Ginny answered from the kitchen, eying a chicken she had put in the oven.

"So when is she going to wake up and give us the runes?"

Older Harry sighed, "The healers said that in her condition, it could take a couple of days to a week before she regains full consciousness. It's similar to when you were poisoned, Ron."

"A week? But who knows what that thief could be doing with the metronome by then," Younger Ginny wondered.

Older Hermione scanned a file in her lap. "The fact that we don't have the runes is no reason for us to stop looking for the metronome."

"Love, where did you get those?" Older Ron asked. "Did you sneak something out of the Archives?"

"No. These are some of my personal files. I'm not sure if anything's relevant, though."

"So far it doesn't seem like anything has been relevant," Older Ginny shouted from the kitchen.

"So let's review who we're looking for," Older Ron suggested, "An adult female with some involvement in the DMLE who has been known to cause incidents in her workplace and was probably fired or reprimanded for her behavior."

There was a thoughtful pause as Older Hermione combed through her files.

Older Ginny entered from the kitchen. "Are you okay, Love? You're pacing again."

Older Harry stopped his trek across the carpet and rubbed his glasses on his robes. "This isn't the right profile."

"Well, if you've got any other information," Younger Harry said, "be our guest."

Older Harry strode into his study, and before anyone could say anything he rolled out a mobile white board and uncapped a marker. "We've been doing this all wrong. We shouldn't be identifying our suspect on the basis of the labels we give her. We should be identifying her on the basis of the labels she gives herself."

"So we're looking for an absolute hero who's never done anything wrong?" Younger Ron quipped sarcastically. "Is that it?"

"Not quite. We know one thing about this woman, right? She has some affiliation with the DMLE." He scrawled on the white board in large letters _'DMLE'._ "But what else did she say? What emotions did she express, what feelings does she have?"

"She doesn't have an inflated ego," Older Ginny remarked, "The whole time she had her head under her hood, she didn't want to kill anyone unless she thought it absolutely necessary, and she would rather use intelligent tactics than rash actions."

"That makes sense," Older Harry murmured, "The modus operandi for female perpetrators is usually subtle. There's less need for glory. It explains why she poisoned Elise instead of killing her in some more blatant fashion, such as the Killing Curse."

"She calls it 'etiquette', don't you remember?" Older Ron remarked, "When she didn't explain what she was doing she said it was rude of her."

Older Harry nodded and wrote the word ' _etiquette'_ on the white board.

"It's not just about her twisted 'etiquette'," Younger Hermione interjected, "She didn't tell us her plans, but she did say 'my motives are transparent: no human being has the right to interfere with the cosmic force that is time.'"

"She also said 'Time is an element that only God controls'," Older Hermione added, "' Harry Potter of the Past, you will pay for playing God with our universe.'"

"So she sees herself as an officer or regulator of cosmic forces. She wants to punish those who violate the natural order of things." He made another note on the white board.

Younger Ron turned to Older Ron, "So I'm assuming Hermione can still quote _Hogwarts: A History_ by heart?"

Older Ron smirked. "It's even worse in my time. She can quote every law known to man."

Older Ginny glared darkly, "Our Hermione remembers that woman's words because she threatened our children. It's not easy to forget: 'You have thirty seconds to decide what's most important'. That sentence has been echoing in my head for hours, along with Lily's screams." Older Ginny folded her arms and scowled at her feet. At first, Younger Harry thought that she might be crying, but when she looked up, her eyes were completely dry. Older Harry dropped his white board marker and embraced her.

Younger Harry watched as his future wife hugged his future self tightly. There was some extreme power behind her anger for this woman that reminded him of Mrs. Weasley, or even of his mother, something steely and dangerous in her eyes that his Ginny had never shown so strongly. Younger Harry suddenly realized that their older selves wanted so much more than to simply get their younger selves home.

Older Ron sat next to his own wife and squeezed her hand gently. "That woman will pay," Older Hermione murmured as she eyed the couple "Our family has been thrown into too much danger. She will be made accountable for her actions."

"Except that she thinks that her actions are positive," Younger Ginny grumbled, "She obviously knows we time-travelled, so she's making sure that we can't get back home so we understand that dealing with that kind of magic has consequences. It's like she thinks it's her job."

Younger Ron's eyes widened. "Maybe it _is_ her job."

"What are you on about?" Older Ron asked.

Younger Ron approached the white board and took the marker. "Think about it. She works for the DMLE," he used the marker to tap ' _DMLE'_ on the board, "And even in her twisted mind, she thinks that as a DMLE employee there's a certain way of doing things," he pointed to ' _etiquette',_ "and she acts like she has to make sure that people don't mess with stuff they're not supposed to mess with or do magic that they're not supposed to do." He pointed to the words ' _cosmic regulator- restores natural order'._ "What department does that sound like to you?"

Younger Harry gasped. "The Improper Use of Magic Office!"

"But we didn't read anything about anyone from the Improper Use of Magic Office causing an incident," Younger Hermione argued.

"That's because she didn't cause an incident- she was the collateral damage of an incident," Older Harry said, his eyes sparking with a flash of insight. He unwrapped his arms from Older Ginny and turned to Older Hermione. "Hermione, do you have records of accidents that occurred in the Department of Mysteries?"

Older Hermione rifled through her papers. "Yes, actually, they're part of my personal files. The Minister for Magic is given special notification of Department of Mysteries projects gone wrong. "

"Any incidents under a name starting with 'b'? Like Barnum or Barrett?"

Older Hermione grabbed a document and jumped. " _Yes!_ There was a man named Beckett. He was killed in an experiment with the Department of Mysteries years ago."

"What was the experiment for?"

Older Hermione frowned. "It's not specific because it's redacted. It says that the experiment centered on 'the manipulation of cosmic forces'. That's almost exactly the words that woman used. Harry, how did you know?"

"I just remembered the _Daily Prophet_ article from a few years ago, that there was a man who died in an experiment or something. And he had a family, didn't he?"

Older Hermione nodded, her eyes on the file. "He had a sister, Delia Beckett. Merlin, you won't believe this-"

"What?"

Older Hermione lowered her file and eyed him gravely. "She works for the Improper Use of Magic Office."


	13. The Secret Lair of Delia Beckett

Hey everyone! Sorry for taking so long with this new chapter. Life has gotten busy. I always read the feedback that I am given, and I appreciate the comments you guys give, so it seems a dedication is in order. I dedicate this chapter to laurynmg1, who has recently been such a cheerleader of this fic. I was never going to abandon it, but laurynmg1 kicked my butt into gear! Words cannot express how great their encouragement makes me feel as a writer.

In addition, I recently read an interesting review about the dynamics of my Romione moments: one reviewer thought that Hermione is not nearly as indignant as I portray her, and that she calls Ron 'Ronald' way too much in my fic. I must say, I find the frustrated Romione banter very cute and I seem to write it into most of my chapters without realizing it (even with their future selves- some things never change!)

So, without further ado…

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Chapter 13: The Secret Lair of Delia Beckett

The little town of Twilsey was usually noisy during the day: children played about raucously, Muggle neighbors gossiped freely over their white fences. Though it was a rare sight, a wizard or two might send an owl in the middle of the day, unbeknownst to their non-magic friends. Now, however, all was quiet as the residents lay down to bed.

Suddenly, as if being dragged and taken from their bulbs, every street light turned off.

Older Ron closed the Deluminator. "Blimey, this neighborhood is teeming with Muggles."

"You said she's at the end of the street?" Younger Ginny asked from under the Invisibility Cloak.

"Yes," Older Harry answered. He began to walk down the street, being swallowed by the utter darkness.

"Harry, we need a plan," Older Hermione whispered urgently, "We can't just break down the door. If Delia isn't home and finds out that we broke in, she could run and we would never find her again."

"That's not what she's going to do," Younger Harry interjected. "She wants to make sure we pay the price, and she's not leaving until she's punished us properly. She doesn't want to face us, but she will if she has to."

"So now we will make her face us," Older Harry finished.

The eight of them reached the end of the dark street. There was more than one house there, but none of them needed to double-check the address. Delia Beckett's house, despite looking similar to all the others, had an eerie, isolated feel. Each of her pink chrysanthemums stuck out in the flowerbeds at just the right angle. The front mat of the house looked clean and undisturbed. There was one lawn chair that had been covered meticulously in plastic so that the rain would not damage it. It was all quite pleasant, in the most ominous way possible.

Older Harry approached the front step and eyed the door, analyzing it cautiously.

"But we can't just burst in," Younger Hermione cautioned, "If security in the future is as serious as it is in our time, won't she have an alarm that sounds if we enter by magic?"

"Which is why we won't enter by magic," Older Harry whispered. He turned an outstretched hand to his wife. "A little help?" Older Ginny plucked a pin from her hair and handed it to him.

"What are you doing?" Younger Ron asked.

"Muggle stuff," he answered nonchalantly, tweaking the hairpin in the lock.

"Surely that won't-"

The lock clicked, and Older Harry grinned back at him.

The eight of them peeked over the threshold cautiously. They were met with a long, dark hallway. Older Harry cast _muffliato_ andsnuck across the floor. Even without the spell, the sounds of their feet were muffled on the long woolen carpet.

"What if Delia isn't the culprit?" Younger Hermione whispered, "Then that would mean that the Minister for Magic and the Head of the DMLE were sneaking into the house of an innocent woman."

"Whoever she is, I don't think she's innocent," Older Harry replied, "My assistant Jason might not have complete security clearance, but he was able to check a couple of things for me about Delia before we left the Field. She's recently taken out multiple sick days for no apparent reason, and that's definitely a red flag."

"We should split up," Younger Harry announced, "Cover more ground."

Older Harry shook his head. "After twenty three years as an auror, I've learned that that is the stupidest idea," he rasped, "No one is splitting up."

"So, where do we look first?"

Younger Ron looked around. "Maybe we could see if she has a cellar?"

"She wouldn't keep anything valuable in the cellar," Younger Hermione argued, "That is by far the most obvious place to put something suspicious."

"Sometimes the best answer is the most obvious one," Older Ron replied, "Which certainly works for me. Let's find the cellar."

They crept to the end of the hall and found Delia's small kitchen. Aside from a couple of dishes in the sink, nothing was out of place. The kitchen counters were clean and a lone tea cozy lay on the otherwise spotless kitchen table.

"This must be him," Older Ginny whispered. The seven turned to find her examining a photograph. Two middle-aged blondes, a man and a woman, smiled together on a park bench. Even while smiling, Delia Beckett held a strict gaze, as if there was something brewing beneath the surface of her sharp blue eyes.

"I found the cellar!" Older Ron opened a door in the corner, revealing a set of stairs leading into darkness.

Younger Harry wondered if they might get caught. Every step creaked as they descended into the abyss that was Delia Beckett's cellar. The lower they went, the colder it became, until they finally reached the bottom of the stairs.

Older Hermione cast a nonverbal _lumos_ , and they were suddenly bathed in light.

"She must be really into wine," Younger Ron announced, "There's a whole wall of it."

Indeed, the shelves of wine bottles on the right wall seemed to be the only thing in the cellar. There were no secret blueprints or terrible weapons, or even the metronome. Older Hermione walked along the rows of bottles, examining them.

"There's nothing here," Younger Ginny sighed, "Maybe Hermione was right. The cellar's a little too obvious."

"We can check if she has an attic," Older Ginny suggested.

"Not just yet," Younger Harry cautioned. "When Dumbledore took me to the cave where Slytherin's locket was hidden, it looked like there was nothing there too. But it turned out that the lair with the inferi was hiding behind a secret wall."

"So you think there's a secret wall here too?" Older Ron asked. He suddenly turned to his wife. "Is that what you're looking for, Hermione?"

Older Hermione continued to study the bottles, crouching down to see one of the lower shelves. "It's possible. I'm looking for any inconsistencies in the bottles or the labeling. So far I'm just seeing typical brand names for Merlot or Pinot Noir, but-"

She paused, hovering over one of the bottles.

"What's up?" Older Ron asked.

Older Hermione bit her lip. "The brand name for this one is 'Cosmic Force'. Delia said that those are things that humans should not be able to control." She eyed the seven of them, took a breath, and pulled out the bottle.

For several long minutes, they waited on baited breath.

But nothing happened.

Younger Harry frowned disappointedly. "Well, it was worth trying-"

Before they could turn back, however, the floor began to shake. Every wine bottle clinked as the cabinet appeared to fold in on itself, column by column on each side, until a stone entrance emerged from the wall.

Older Ron smiled as the group stared in awe at the entrance to what appeared to be a secret room. "Good job, Love!"

"That wasn't Hermione," Older Ginny announced from behind them. "That was me."

"How was that you?" Younger Ron asked, "Future Hermione opened it when she pulled out the wine bottle."

"I think my past self is right about this one," Older Ron argued, "It's not you, Sis."

Older Ginny waved a plastic bottle in the air and tossed it to Older Harry. "Found this by the stairs. The moment I picked it up, the passage opened."

"What is it?" Younger Harry asked, leaning over Older Harry's shoulder.

Older Harry stared at the bottle in disbelief. "It's just water."

"Well, of course!" Younger Hermione gasped, "Water is supposed to be a pure element of nature, untouched by man. Unlike all of that specially brewed wine over there."

"But why would a plastic water bottle be the key to the passageway?" Younger Ginny asked, "A plastic bottle doesn't come across as special."

"That's the whole point, though, isn't it?" Older Hermione asked. "Delia relies on subtlety. She wouldn't pick anything outwardly obvious."

Younger Ron shivered. "I hope Delia never makes horcruxes. Because if she does, I think she'll stuff her soul in a shoe box and we would never find it."

Older Hermione led the group as she crossed the passageway. It was a room quite unlike the one they had just left. In the middle of the room stood a table, which, in peculiar similarity to Harry and Elise's desks, was covered with files upon files. However, Delia had decided to stack all of her files neatly, and, judging by her letter labels, alphabetically.

"She's been watching you," Younger Ginny murmured. Facing the desk was a large pin board. Older Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were displayed in various pictures, along with photos of other witches and wizards and several _Daily Prophet_ clippings. Younger Harry suddenly noticed a much newer photo of their four older selves, trekking down a path in Hogsmeade.

"This is from earlier today," He said, snatching the photo and handing it to his older self. "She took pictures of us before she cornered us at the music shop."

Older Harry studied the picture and handed it back to him. "Put it back. As an auror, we shouldn't move things too much. Remember when I- I mean, when you pulled Moody's eye from Umbridge's door?"

Younger Harry returned the photo to the pin board as the other seven scanned the room.

"How did she know that the four of you had time travelled, though?" Older Ron wondered, "Her job is to detect magic performed by underage wizards, except everyone here is of age."

Younger Hermione lifted a paper from Delia's desk. "I think I've found the answer to that." She handed Older Ron a piece of old parchment.

"It's an old article," Ron said, scanning the page, "Sponsored by the Improper Use of Magic Office. _The detection of the use of specific charms._ There's a mention of the Time Reversal charm in here."

"So Delia Beckett's found a way to use the Improper Use of Magic detection system for specific types of magic done by adult wizards," Older Harry said.

"Like the type of magic that is activated by a time turning device," Older Ginny finished.

Younger Ginny pulled a _Daily Prophet_ clipping from the board. "Here's the article about her brother: 'In the course of one week, one Department of Mysteries employee has been found dead and three missing at the hands of one of their newest experiments. It was reported by the department that Unspeakable Nigel Beckett was killed while conducting dangerous experiments for the department. Experiments continued after his death, and in the week proceeding, Unspeakables Sarah Dowager, Nicholas Little, and Allison Thistle were reported missing due to the same experiment.'"

"How could the experiment cause them to go missing?" Younger Ron asked.

Older Harry eyed the article. "It'll come as no surprise that some of the projects in that Department are very strange. Sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday that Sirius fell behind the Veil. There are some times, like with the Veil, that Department of Mysteries employees will not be reported dead. They'll be reported 'missing' because nobody could find their bodies. I have a strong feeling that all of Nigel's colleagues are dead though."

Older Hermione gasped and pointed to the pin board. "Harry, it's them!" She pointed to three pictures, two women and a man, all wearing Unspeakables robes. Each photo had a red cross over it, and a tiny symbol drawn in the bottom corner.

"It wasn't the experiment that killed them," Younger Harry realized, "It was _her!_ Delia must have been furious when Nigel's colleagues decided to continue the project that killed her brother, so she murdered them. And nobody would think it was unusual that their bodies were missing because weird stuff happens to Unspeakables all the time."

"But we know where the bodies are now," Older Hermione's hand shook as she pointed to the bottom corner of Allison's picture. She bit her bottom lip. "This symbol- it's a little flower. And she drew them in pink."

"Like the ones in her garden," Older Ginny whispered, "She buried them there."

"And you will all rest there soon enough."

The eight of them whipped around to see a blond middle-aged woman glaring at them all through her strict blue eyes, standing just outside of the room.

"I hope you enjoy my secret room," she said, "You will be here for quite a while."

Before any of them could react, Delia pointed her wand at the passageway. The walls closed with a click.

And they were all trapped.


	14. Harry Potter's Greatest Strength

Hey, everybody! Life has been crazy lately, but this fic is almost done! I estimate that there will be about three chapters left or less, and I'm not giving up on it now. Shout out to gingerflame17 for the great encouragement as we are so close to the end!

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Chapter 14: Harry Potter's Greatest Strength

The eight of them stared at the entrance desperately as it shut.

"What's her plan?" Younger Ginny asked, "What's she going to do with us?"

"Well," Older Ron surmised, "She likes to be low-key, but she also wants to kill us now. However, she said that we would be here a while, so I'm going to take a wild guess and say that she wants us to die of thirst."

"Unless we're able to find a way out before then," Older Ginny answered.

Younger Ron frowned, "Then she'll just ask if we're thirsty and offer us poisoned water or something."

Older Harry analyzed the inner walls of the room. "There must be an alternate exit here somewhere. Everyone look around, see if you can find anything useful."

The eight of them traipsed the sides of the room, looking through papers and boxes every now and then.

Older Hermione gasped as she searched through an old trunk. "I think- I think I've found Allison Thistle's belongings." She pulled a woman's purse from the trunk, along with a set of Unspeakables robes with the name 'Thistle' embroidered on the front. "We can use these as evidence when we get out."

" _If_ we get out," Younger Ron corrected dubiously.

"Can't we apparate?" Younger Ginny asked.

Younger Harry spun in place, "I'm trying. I think the room is charmed."

Younger Harry gave it up as a bad job and decided to examine the room further, running his hand along the walls like Dumbledore had done when they were searching for Slytherin's locket, not quite sure what he was looking for. After rubbing his hand over the same ridge in the wall for the fifth time, the room was suddenly aglow with a shining silver light.

A silver light in the shape of a housecat with bespectacled markings.

Older Ginny hurried towards the patronus. "McGonagall."

"Potter, Weasley," the cat said in Minerva McGonagall's voice, "There's been an emergency up at the school regarding your children. As this is not a secure floo line, I shall give you details when you arrive at Hogwarts. Please meet with me _immediately_."

Before any of them could so much as talk to the cat, it had disappeared.

"That bitch!" Older Hermione's snarl was soft, but the other seven jumped in surprise nonetheless. "It's Delia. She's using our children as pawns for her little mind games. McGonagall probably realized they were missing from their beds."

Older Ron put a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Hermione, we need to-"

"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN, RON, IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT! I'M NOT PLAYING HER GAME ANYMORE!" Sparks flew from her wand as she clutched it in her fist.

Younger Harry's brain spun desperately for a rescue plan. What was scarier than an angry Hermione was an angry, twice-as-smart, Minister Hermione who sought retribution for her precious children. And he had a feeling that the longer they stayed, the more explosive the four parents would become.

"Maybe we can cast a patronus?" Younger Ron murmured, eying Older Hermione warily, "Since McGonagall's was able to get in?"

Older Harry pointed his wand in front of him.

" _Expecto Patronum!"_ His wand emitted a small puff of silver smoke.

"Yet another thing that doesn't work in this room!" Older Ginny grumbled. "Fine then. We'll do it my way."

"By summoning our brooms?" Older Harry asked.

"By blowing a giant hole through the place." She raised her wand at the closed entrance. "My _reducto_ is still as good as ever. Hold on to something-"

Her husband grabbed her wrist. "The whole cellar might cave in, and we could die!"

"Says the man who has jumped on dragons, run through hoards of giants, and dived through fiendfyre! I would normally wait for Delia to come back to jump her, but as you can see, Love, I really don't have the time for that."

Older Harry locked his jaw and slowly released his wife's arm. He looked back at everyone else warningly. "Hold on to something."

The time travellers took cover. Younger Ron and Hermione took shelter behind Delia's old trunk, while Younger Harry and Ginny knocked Delia's desk onto its side, scattering files everywhere, to create a giant shield. Their older counterparts, apparently past caring, did not move a muscle.

Older Ginny raised her wand at the wall and took a deep, steadying breath. " _Red-_ "

The wall gave an abrupt click as the bricks pulled back, column by column. The eight of them raised their wands, prepared to fight.

The wall finally gave way to the open cellar, revealing a small group of people.

"See, I knew there was a passage here!" It was Rose, clad in a pair of old sweatpants. Her eyes widened as she came face to face with Older Ginny, her wand arm still frozen and aiming at the passageway. "Bloody hell, Aunt Ginny! Did that hooded woman trap you in here?"

"How did you kids get here?" Older Ginny's eyebrows had retreated to her hairline.

"Well, see," Albus hesitated, rubbing his face with his T-shirt, "Mum, you can't get mad at us…"

"We broke out of school, Mum," James admitted. He was holding the plastic water bottle in his hand. "We wanted to help you get back the metronome."

Older Hermione gritted her teeth. "So, this whole time, I thought McGonagall was going to say you had been kidnapped by that woman, and I was fearing for my children's lives, when you actually _broke out of school?_ " she was eying Rose fiercely."We will discuss this later." Rose backed up several steps in response.

Lily kept looking back over her shoulder. "We should go, before we get caught."

The eight of them hurried to join Lily, but Older Hermione hung back at the passageway. She pointed her wand at the wine cabinet and cast a nonverbal spell.

"It's a spell to keep it open," she explained in response to their inquiring expressions, "So that Delia can't lock her secrets up forever."

Younger Harry looked up the stairs, just as Lily had done. When would Delia come back?

"We need to go," he announced.

James frowned. "We can't. We split up and sent Hugo to find the metronome."

"You did _what_?" Older Hermione asked.

"He said he would meet us in the cellar when he was ready." James checked a watch on his wrist. It was the same kind that the Weasley children received for their seventeenth birthdays, only newer. "If Hugo doesn't come back in five minutes, we should go looking for him."

"How did you all get here?" Older Ron asked. "I thought McGonagall was keeping an eye on you?"

"She _was_ keeping on eye on us," James answered, "But we knew that if she kept watching over us personally, we'd never get out."

"So we convinced McGonagall to let someone else take over her watch," Rose continued, "Someone we knew was less…implacable." She eyed her mother cautiously.

"And who was that?" Older Ginny asked.

Albus cringed. "Um…Hagrid."

The four parents face palmed. Older Ginny groaned. Older Hermione let out a frustrated grunt. Younger Ron tried to stifle his laughter.

"So how did you find us?" Younger Ginny asked.

"After we took the floo to the Field and found that nobody was home, we found some files on this Beckett woman strewn across the coffee table in the living room," Albus answered, "Somebody had circled her address in red ink, so it was easy to put two and two together."

Older Ron shifted sheepishly under his wife's gaze.

The door to the cellar creaked open, and a figure appeared at the top of the stairs.

"I have the metronome," Hugo said. "Come."

James took the stairs two at a time while the others followed. They found Hugo in the kitchen, empty-handed.

"Where is it, Hugo?" Lily asked.

"Come," he repeated. He wasted no time, and strode into one of the adjoining rooms.

The group followed him curiously. It was a sitting room. Every piece of furniture, so neatly placed around the edges of the room, was thrown into relief from the moonlight spilling through the curtains.

"Is it here, Hugo?" Rose asked, "Is this where you found it?" James and Lily began checking the sofa cushions, while the others surveyed the room.

Hugo beckoned to them, leading them to the far right corner where an old trunk stood next to an armchair. As he backed up, his face was bathed in moonlight.

James hurried to meet him, but Older Hermione gasped. Younger Harry knew why.

"JAMES, STOP!"

"STUPEFY!"

James dropped to the floor with a bang while Hugo continued to point his wand at him.

"Hugo!" Rose cried. Older Ron grabbed her arm.

"DON'T MOVE! He's been imperiused!"

For a split second Younger Harry saw something flit out of the corner of his eye, then more bangs as spells whizzed through the air. Everything was a blur as Delia's colleagues suddenly rained curses upon them, and everyone scattered. Younger Harry threw shield charm after shield charm as one of them ran towards him. A curse whizzed past his ear and shattered a vase. Older Harry ran to James' unconscious body, while Older Hermione ran in Hugo's direction, dodging jets of red light from her son's own wand in his Imperius-induced craze.

It was just like the War. The world had tuned out, become fuzzy as he faced his assailant. People ran around him, fell around him, screamed, but his brain could only process the figure in front of him. Younger Harry aimed a stunning jinx at him, but missed.

The man took advantage of the blunder. " _Tarantellegra!_ " he shouted.

Younger Harry fell as his legs thrashed about uncontrollably. With all of the strength he could muster he dragged himself on his elbows into the hallway, out of the man's direct line of sight.

He could see that the fight had moved into the hallway and stairwell. Lily and Older Harry were at the top of the stairs, where they were facing two of the goons. One of them had lost her hood to reveal a graying scalp with a flyaway braid. The woman began to rush up the stairs, closing in on Lily.

" _Cruc-"_

" _Deprimo!"_

Lily's spell blasted the wooden stairs where the woman stood, sending her careening into the massive hole in the staircase.

"Just like Mum taught you!" Older Harry shouted proudly.

Younger Harry's heart leapt with admiration for his future daughter, but his musing was cut short as his legs continued to thrash and the man he was fighting barreled through the doorway to face him.

"Didn't think I'd forget about you, did you?" he cackled, "Never mind. Delia is fine with us finishing the job she started. _Avada-"_

The man hit the floor, dead.

"I missed!" One of the other figures cried as he failed to hit Rose in the next room, noticing the damage he had done.

As the curse was lifted and Younger Harry gained control of his legs, he could see a flash of blonde hair down the hall. He sprinted across the carpet, jumped over someone's bleeding body, and darted into the kitchen.

Younger Ron and Albus sat on the kitchen floor next to a man they had frozen with _Petrificus Totalus._ Albus nursed a black eye and a swollen lip.

He looked at Younger Harry and pointed weakly to the back door. "She went that way."

Harry darted out the door and entered an empty yard with pristine hedges and freshly mown grass. He thought she had escaped until he heard the sound of soft sniffles in the shadows.

"A thing that I thought you understood, Harry Potter of the Past," she said, sounding close to tears, "is the terrible destruction of the mind that occurs when someone close to us is ripped away." He couldn't tell where the voice was coming from.

"My parents had been dead for a long time at the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named before my brother perished as no more than a Ministry guinea pig. I had nobody, nobody but him. When He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named created his horcruxes, he bent the laws of nature, when the Department of Mysteries decided to treat the natural order like a game, people suffered, and years later, when I thought I had put a stop to one of the Department's worst games, here you are. But you must learn, just as I did, that this manipulation has its consequences."

She emerged from the shadows dragging what looked like a stupefied body. Ginny. Not future Ginny, but _his_ Ginny, with her long flaming hair that cascaded down her shoulders and her face that still held such youth. Harry could feel his heart in his throat.

"I thought that for you to truly see the damage you have done, I needed to ensure that your future was destroyed. At first I thought this meant ensuring that you would never return home to the normal fabric of time, but I have since realized that the solution was simpler.

"You will see, Harry Potter, that society will start assuming your greatest desires. For a while, they will assume that your greatest desire is to climb to the highest ranks of the DMLE, others will assume that you crave riches to match your pureblood heritage, and still others will assume that after being thrown into a cupboard for eleven years that recognition and fame might be among your top ambitions. But someday, when you look back on your life, you will realize that the greatest yearning you ever had was to have a future, a future with this darling girl who will bear the family you never had." She eyed Ginny, limp in her arms. "So the conclusion is rather easy: to kill your future, I must kill _her_."

If Delia hadn't been distracted, she would've noticed Ginny's eyelids flutter open.

And she winked at Harry.

"I do understand how you feel, Delia. I feel like I've lost everyone I care about." Harry wondered how long he could stall. "But see, there's a big problem here."

He could see Ginny's hand slowly closing around something in Delia's robes, something metallic.

The metronome!

"I didn't even know what the metronome did," Harry said, "We used it by accident."

Delia's eyes narrowed. She had stopped crying now. "Accidents do not excuse meddling in what ought to be left alone! One does not go free after accidentally causing destruction-"

"GINNY, NOW!"

With an almighty thrust, Ginny sank the sharp edge of the metronome into Delia's leg. With a shriek, Delia keeled over, screaming as the blood dripped down her calf. She raised her wand in anguish and aimed at Ginny once again.

" _Expelliarmus!"_

Delia looked in the direction of her disarmer. Older Harry stood, pointing his wand at her. Older Ron and Hermione charged through the back door and into the yard as Delia lunged for her fallen wand in the grass, apparating with a _pop._

Now free of Delia's grasp, Younger Ginny retrieved her own fallen wand from the grass. The adrenaline somehow fell in on itself, imploded. Even the air felt heavier, more exhausting. For the first time in hours, Younger Harry could really hear the sounds of the night: the chirping of crickets, the rustling of leaves in the wind. The older trio looked on dejectedly, staring at the place their escaped suspect had been but a second ago.

Older Ginny limped into the yard, supported by her two sons. Her left side was glistening with blood. Lily and Rose followed, and then Younger Ron and Hermione appeared, accompanied by Hugo, who no longer seemed cursed.

"I've spent the last few minutes in a bloody heap on the ground," Older Ginny said, "What did I miss?"

"She escaped," Older Ron sighed, "Guess she knew she was outnumbered."

Albus turned to the time travellers. "So she left with the metronome? You can't leave?"

"Not quite." Younger Ginny grinned, holding up the metronome. The others gasped, marveling at it. She caught Younger Harry's eye. "We can go home."

"But not just yet," Older Harry said, "There's someone you need to see."

"Who?" Younger Ron asked.

A small smile turned on Older Harry's face. "An old friend of mine. She's expecting you."


	15. Regression

As it's so close to the end, here is a two chapter special! I am publishing Chapter 15 and 16 at once (mainly because Chapter 15 is a little shorter than usual). This story will finish with seventeen chapters. Enjoy!

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Chapter 15: Regression

"They told my husband that I would be unconscious for a week, except they didn't factor in that I'm the same weight as a baby elephant."

Everyone laughed as Elise rested her hands behind her head. To everyone's surprise, she had regained consciousness shortly after they infiltrated Delia's house, in the early hours of the morning. Now she was wide-awake, chatting jovially with everyone from the comfort of her hospital bed.

Elise tapped Older Ginny, who was sitting at the edge of her bed. "So, my friend," she said, eying the bandages wrapped around Ginny's middle, "What's your story?"

"When we infiltrated Delia Beckett's house, James was almost attacked by one of her goons, so I stepped in between them. The healers say it was some kind of slashing hex, and I have to take a blood replenishing potion every hour, but I'll be fine."

James shook his head. "Mum's understating the whole thing. She actually dueled him, and it was amazing!"

Hugo snorted. "You were unconscious for half of it."

"And you were cursed for half of it!"

"Point taken. Being imperiused felt nice, but like, in a really awful way."

"So what happened after Beckett disapparated?" Elise asked, "My security detail isn't telling me anything."

"The neighbors called about a disturbance and the Muggle police started to show up, so we left before they could catch us," Younger Harry answered. He was sporting blond hair and a hooked nose. Their older counterparts had decided to lazily transfigure their hair and faces this time as a disguise, knowing that Older Harry could easily wave away the security around Elise's room.

"And then we had to take Ginny to Saint Mungo's for the bleeding," Older Harry answered, "That was when the Ministry figured out that the Head of the Auror Department, the Head of the DMLE, and the Minister for Magic had been involved in a clandestine project, and now they're investigating Beckett's house. Fernandez has managed to round up all of her followers. Turns out all of them are Ministry workers."

"And no sign of Delia?" Elise asked.

Older Harry shook his head. "That will be my major focus when we get out of here. She's probably in hiding."

"Sounds like she's regressed from what you've told me."

"Regressed?" Rose asked.

"Criminal profiling jargon," Elise explained, "It means that her normal mental patterns are unraveling. She started out methodical, but now her behavior's becoming reckless, messy."

"She'll show herself eventually," Older Ron assured them.

Older Hermione smiled wryly. "Until then, though, we're going to be explaining ourselves to the rest of the Ministry."

"And McGonagall." Albus cringed. Older Harry had sent some aurors to bring word of the incident to the Headmistress, although nobody knew that time travel was involved.

Hugo turned to his mother. "You'll tell her that we were just trying to help… right, Mum?"

"We can explain the situation as best as possible. I can't speak for your Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, but I think that your actions today deserve some kind of punishment."

The five teenagers moaned outwardly.

Rose looked scandalized. "Mum, we saved your lives!"

"But you still broke out of school," Older Ginny said sternly. She eyed her three children. "None of you are going to get out of this without some kind of punishment, and I'm not changing my mind."

Younger Ginny raised an eyebrow. "But _we_ broke out of school. In my fourth year."

"You're right," Older Ginny said, "but that doesn't mean what we did was right."

"I don't know. It sounded pretty right when we thought we were saving Sirius."

The two Ginnys were now face to face. Everyone in the room looked on worriedly. Nobody had ever mediated a Ginny-versus-Ginny fight before.

"Look, Ginny," Older Ginny sighed, "You're not a parent yet. You don't know-,"

"What? What don't I know, exactly? Maybe you don't remember what it was like, knowing that people you love are in danger but being that person who has to sit and wait and hope that everyone is alright!"

Older Ginny paused for a moment, her eyes completely unreadable. She then turned to Older Harry. "McGonagall's going to bust an artery when we tell her to go easy on them."

Albus gave a sigh of relief and Lily let out a nervous chuckle. James hugged Younger Ginny. "Merlin, you're the best Mu- I mean, Ginny."

"Here I was thinking I was the cool one." A look of mock disappointment spread across Older Ginny's face.

"I don't know, Love," Older Harry answered, "You still took a slashing hex for James, and, quite honestly, I was under the impression that your past, present, and future are all synonymous with being badass."

The three Potter children groaned loudly. Elise shook her head. "Ministry HR needs to hear these pickup lines, Potter. And they say _I'm_ inappropriate on the job."

"Speaking of jobs." Younger Harry caught Elise's eye. "The four of us need your help with something. So we can get back home."

"Ask and you shall receive, Past Potter."

Younger Hermione stepped in. "The metronome needs certain symbols on the back to operate correctly," she said, "Twenty-three years ago, at the Ministry Easter Cleanup, you walked into a room with the metronome, and it had the exact symbols we need to go back. Did you see those symbols, and do you remember what they were?"

Elise's eyebrows rose. "Past Granger, are you mad? You can't ask the average person to remember something they saw twenty-three years ago!"

The time travellers frowned dejectedly. Younger Harry could feel the hopelessness spreading through his chest.

"But you're not asking an average person, are you?" Elise smirked. "Anybody got a spare quill and parchment?"

She took a quill from her bedside table and a piece of parchment from Older Hermione and began to scribble runes from right to left across the paper. Occasionally she would scratch something out and mutter something like 'not exactly' or 'that's the one'.

She finally handed the piece of paper to Younger Ginny. "Do me a favor? Burn it after you use it."

"Are you sure it's right?" Younger Ron asked, "I mean, twenty-three years is a long time."

Their older counterparts smiled. "We're sure," they chorused.

The door to Elise's hospital room creaked open, revealing a healer with a dark pixie cut holding a tray full of small plastic cups.

"I heard you were in here, Mrs. Potter! It's time for your blood replenishing potion." She handed Older Ginny one of the cups.

Older Ginny looked at her, confused. "I thought that Healer Willow was going to give me my blood replenishing potion?"

"Healer Willow was busy, so she sent me." She lifted another cup off of the tray. "I also saw that some of the children who came in with you look quite stressed, so I decided to make them some Draught of Peace." She handed plastic cups to Younger Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

"I'm feeling stressed too, Healer. Can I get some?" Lily asked.

"Of course. I'll get some more. Drink up now, all of you!" And with that, she limped out of the room.

"I heard Drought of Peace is supposed to feel brilliant," Rose said, "If there's anybody who needs some of that, it's you four."

"And if there's anyone who needs blood replenishing potion, it's me," Older Ginny said, "This blood loss has made me exhausted."

She raised the cup to her lips, but Elise sprang out of bed and grabbed her wrist. "Don't. Drink. It."

Older Ginny looked at her, her eyes drained and weary. "What are you talking about?"

Elise tossed the potion into a potted plant in the corner of her room, and it instantly wilted, steam pouring out of its roots.

Before anyone could say another word, Older Harry burst out of the room, Younger Harry at his heels. The corridor outside was pristinely white. Here and there patients walked around in their hospital gowns while healers' robes dragged across the floor. Younger Harry spotted the dark pixie cut at the end of the hall.

" _Revelio!"_ He shouted. The dark-haired healer keeled over from the force of the spell, and the two Harrys rushed towards her.

Older Harry surveyed her through cold eyes. "Nice of you to show up… Delia."

The healer's hair lengthened as it lightened, shade by shade, until it was finally blonde. Crow's feet grew at the corner of her eyes. Her brown irises swirled into a steely blue, as if someone had used a dropper of coloring in a vat of dark paint. It was those sharp eyes that now stared up at Younger Harry.

"We're one and the same, you and I," she rasped as Older Harry used a spell to bind her, "Both of our parents taken at the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, both of the supportive figures in our lives taken at the Department of Mysteries, both of us fighting to take revenge on the horrible forces that killed them. But our society dubs me the monster and you the hero. Why do you think yourself so different, Harry Potter of the Past and Present?"

"Because you're wrong," Younger Harry growled, "You never wanted revenge. You wanted power. And that makes you no better than Voldemort."


	16. Goodbye, Mr Potter

Chapter 16: Goodbye, Mr. Potter

Older Harry contacted Armando Fernandez with the Auror Department and managed to hand Delia over without too many questions, and after saying one last goodbye to Elise, together they flooed to the Ministry of Magic and found their way into the storeroom for the Department of Magical Transportation.

The storeroom was still as clean as they had left it, with it's labeled boxes and its brooms placed neatly in the corner.

"Why couldn't we do this at the Field?" Younger Ron asked, "Isn't there a chance we'll get caught again?"

"We have to do it here," Older Hermione explained, "The metronome only transports the users to a desired time, not a desired place. We want you to end up in the same place you were before."

"So I guess we're all set then."

"Not so fast," Older Harry said, "Remember our deal?"

Younger Harry had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, one that was mingled with fear. Their deal. Of course. Their deal to be given freedom to roam about the future world with their older counterparts in exchange for being obliviated. That deal.

"But- what about Delia?" Younger Harry asked.

"What about her?" Older Harry said, "We've captured her, she'll face trial, and she'll go to Azkaban for a very long time."

"But we haven't captured her in our time," Younger Harry said, "In our time, she's running free, and if we remembered everything we could put a stop to it. We could make sure that we get her before she kills any of those Ministry people."

His eyes met with Older Harry's, which were tired yet pensive. "We've already discussed this. The risk of interdimensional fracture is too great. What if you hurt teenage Delia and it changed things you weren't intending to change? And besides, there's another reason why I don't want you going after her."

"Why?"

"Because every human being, whether they become a monster or not, deserves to spend time with whatever piece of humanity they still have left. In our time, Delia is a serial killer. You said yourself that her motives were as bad as Voldemort's. But a monster was only what she chose to become. In your time, Delia is just a teenager from a broken home who loves her brother very much. For all we know, teenage Delia has already started thinking about power and control. She might have started acting out. The fact still remains that teenage Delia certainly doesn't deserve the same punishment that adult Delia deserves. Fighting Delia is not a fight for your time, not yet."

"Harry?" Younger Harry asked.

Older Harry smiled at being addressed by himself. "Yes, Harry?"

"Do you think that what you're saying, about people deserving to spend time with their humanity and stuff- do you think that's true about everyone? Like, would you go back in time to kill another dark wizard, like Voldemort?"

There was a look in Older Harry's eyes, a look both bemused and pondering that reminded Younger Harry a lot of Dumbledore. "That's a question for another day," he answered, "Right now, you need to get home."

"I'll set the metronome," Younger Hermione said, "I'll set the frequency to one beat per minute to go back years, then I'll set the runes on the metronome according to what Elise gave us. Then..," she hesitated, "our older selves will obliviate us and activate the metronome. And we'll be sent home."

She set the frequency and looked at the parchment of Elise's symbols, pointing her wand at the engravings on the back of the metronome.

Younger Harry looked back at their older counterparts. Older Harry was murmuring something to Older Hermione as she watched her younger self. How does a person bid farewell to himself?

"Well, I guess this is goodbye," Younger Harry said.

"For now, at least," Older Ginny answered. "You'll see us all later, in the mirror."

"But if we're really going to get our memories erased, I want to ask some more questions about the future," Younger Ron said, "Like, what do I do for a living? 'Cause I don't think the older me is an auror anymore."

"Yeah, I didn't figure that out either," Younger Ginny said, "Except when we were in the Archives you said something about writing an article. Am I going to be a reporter?"

Older Ron turned to his wife. "Please, Love? Please?" He proceeded to give her a ridiculous puppy dog face.

Older Hermione sighed, "Well it's not like younger Harry and the younger me don't already know their professions. Go ahead."

Older Ron and Ginny high-fived. "Alright," Older Ron said, "Let's go."

"You're not an auror, are you?" Younger Ron asked.

"No, I'm not," Older Ron answered.

Younger Ron's face fell. Younger Harry knew that face all too well after so many failed Quidditch practices. "I knew it," Younger Ron moped, "I wasn't good enough to get through training. I knew I didn't stand a chance."

"You aren't going to leave because you failed, Ron," Older Ginny replied softly.

"Yes," Older Hermione said, eying her husband proudly, "You'll actually become one of the best aurors in the unit."

"Really? Then why do I leave?"

"Because you've got mad business skills!" Hugo answered, grinning.

"So, I'll leave to work at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and help out George?" he asked.

Their future counterparts nodded.

"But you've got it all wrong- Fred and George always knew how to sell things. I don't. What do I do at WWW anyway? Stack boxes?"

Older Hermione, Harry, and Ginny exchanged looks and burst into laughter. "No, Ron," Older Ginny giggled, "You don't stack boxes. You're the Chief Strategic Officer of Wizard Wheezes Incorporated."

"What's Wizard Wheezes Incorporated?" he asked.

"The biggest corporation in the history of Wizard Britain," Older Ron answered, "In your time, WWW is just a small little shop. George decided to open more, and now Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes shops are scattered around the world. It hasn't become part of the stuffy business world, thankfully. Board meetings are still held in the original WWW storeroom."

Younger Ron looked dumbfounded. "Wow, sounds like George is gonna do really well for himself."

"Dad- I mean, Ron- Don't you see?" Rose asked, "George isn't going to be able to make all of those expansions without you."

Younger Ron grinned and blushed Weasley scarlet, still contemplating their words.

"So, how about me?" Younger Ginny turned to her future self. "I suppose being a reporter is going to be fun?"

Older Ginny nodded. "It'll be a lot of fun, trust me. You'll be covering games all over the world, you'll be meeting illustrious Quidditch players from around the country, and you'll uncover Quidditch Federation scandals to help change the Federation for the better. It's been such a rewarding career for me."

"Okay." Younger Ginny was smiling, but it seemed that a certain spark had left her eyes. Even Younger Harry's heart sank a little. Journalism sounded nice, but playing Quidditch was Ginny's absolute dream. He was so sure that maybe, some day, she would realize that dream. After everything they had been through in the War, he thought that his girlfriend deserved that kind of happiness. But, he guessed, fate had other plans.

Older Ginny frowned. "Something bothering you, Ginny?"

Younger Ginny dropped all pretense. "Well, it's just…I had this dream of-,"

"Being selected for the Holyhead Harpies," Older Ginny finished. "It was my dream."

"Yeah, and just maybe-"

"Playing internationally for England," she finished again. James, Albus, and Lily started to smile from behind her, but Younger Harry couldn't tell why.

"It's funny," Older Harry chuckled, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder. "When you're at a really early point in chasing your dreams, you think small. You ask yourself, 'Could I really get accepted into the Harpies?' or 'Could I really be selected to play for England?' Except you never ask yourself the bigger questions: 'Could I be _captain_ of the Harpies? Could I be _captain_ of the first all-women's English team in the history of the game to win the Quidditch World Cup?' You never ask yourself those things."

Younger Ginny's jaw dropped. "No."

"Yes," Older Ron replied, "You see, my sister is one of the most famous Quidditch players that ever lived."

Younger Ginny caught Younger Harry's eye, her mouth still open but the corners tugging up in a smile.

"So…I did it?" she whispered.

"All of your dreams and more," Lily answered, grinning.

"Whoah," Younger Ron gasped.

Younger Ginny slammed into her older self and gave her a hug. Older Ginny looked on the verge of tears.

"Why did you become a reporter after that?" Younger Ron asked.

Older Ginny resurfaced from the hug and put an arm around James. "I had a baby. Well, three, really. It was my choice to leave and I don't regret it."

Younger Harry looked at James, Albus, and Lily. Perhaps he, too, knew what it was like to see that he would achieve his dreams someday. The months after the War had been exhausting, and as everyone else was deciding how to move on, The Boy Who Lived was left at a loss. He had spent his whole life fighting, and the only thing he knew how to do, or, as Dumbledore would say it, the best thing he knew how to do, was love.

"I can't wait to meet you three," he said, barely louder than a whisper.

Everyone stared at him awkwardly.

"Well, I mean- I don't want to be a teen dad or anything. It's just…I think it'll be really great to meet you. Someday."

"It's a little too late to say you don't want to be a teen father," Older Ron answered, "You're practically a teen godfather."

"And your Teddy will need you back home," Older Hermione reasoned. "Time to go."

"So what do we do?" Younger Ron asked, "Do we just lie down or something?"

"We're going to stupefy and obliviate you, so yes, you'll need to lie down for this."

The four time travelers said their goodbyes and lay next to each other on the wooden floorboards. Their eyes fluttered closed as Older Hermione gently tapped her wand on each of their heads.

"I'm going to miss them," Lily confessed.

Her father smiled. "Lils, we're right here. They're us."

"I know. Just- don't forget that you're _them._ Okay, Dad?"

Harry's eyes swept over the scrawnier young man with the fresh scars and no gray hairs. "I promise."

"Speaking of forgetting," Hugo said, "Shouldn't we like, obliviate them now?"

Older Hermione nodded. "We should." She raised her wand once more at the four time travellers-

"Stop!"

"What is it, Harry?"

"I hate to send them off like this." He gestured to their unconscious forms.

Older Hermione sighed. "For Merlin sakes, Harry, you've been the one concerned with interdimensional fracture this whole time. We've agreed that this needs to be done."

"But what if we could still give them something from their time here? Like a gift?"

Older Ron shook his head. "Mate, they can't have any memories from here. It's too risky."

"I'm not asking for them to keep their memories," Older Harry said, "I'm asking for them to keep their hope."

* * *

One more chapter left! Stay tuned!


	17. The Gift and the Present

Here we are, the last chapter. I took a really long break in between but here it is. Thanks to those of you who have had the patience to stay with this story to the end!

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Chapter 17: The Gift and the Present

The hallway of the Department of Magical Transportation was relatively quiet. The rain beat on the surface of the enchanted windows dolefully as Elise, the young, crude, present-day Elise, exited the lift wearing a lanyard around her neck.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny left the storeroom, rubbing their heads.

"Can we choose somewhere else to volunteer after lunch?" Ron asked, "I don't want to be anywhere near that metro-thingy."

Hermione sighed. "It's called a metronome, Ronald! Although I do agree with you; it was quite noisy. No wonder it's being kept in a storeroom like that!"

"It was like, one second we were looking at it and the next we were on the floor with massive headaches," Harry thought aloud.

Fuhrman's tall form approached them, her long dark hair in a messy ponytail. She was wearing her favorite combat boots and a tank top that showed off her biceps.

Her amber eyes watched Ron as she passed. "Wotcher, Weasley?" she asked, "Something wrong with your head?"

"Ron's just having a headache. We're all kind of having one, actually," Harry answered.

Her animal-like eyes had suddenly found prey. "I didn't ask you, did I, Potter?"

Ginny's eyebrows rose menacingly. Harry could feel her tense next to him. "So you're the cow Harry's been telling me about!" she snarled, "You're Fuhrman!"

Fuhrman looked her up and down, eying her curiously. "You might be a twat, Potter, but you have good taste in women. It's Ginny, is it?"

"What's it to you?" Ginny spat.

Fuhrman shrugged coolly, "Nothing, I suppose. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a storeroom to clean." Fuhrman strolled past them, purposefully bumping into Harry, and entered the storage closet.

Ginny grasped her wand in her hand, looking back at the polished wood door through which Fuhrman had just left. "Some people in this world just need a good bat bogey hex."

She turned to go back into the storeroom, but Harry grasped her arm.

"Just forget about it, Ginny."

Fury filled Ginny's face with Weasley scarlet. "Forget about it? Harry, she called you a twat!"

"I know."

"She's been goading you this whole year."

"I know."

"Then why aren't you letting Ginny hex her?" Ron asked, "It's always fun to watch- I mean, except when she does it to me."

"It's because Harry knows that kind of combative conduct isn't allowed between aurors outside of training. Right, Harry?" Hermione suggested hopefully.

"Well, no, it's not about the rules," Harry hesitated, "It's just…she's here to volunteer, isn't she? Maybe we should let her do her job." He couldn't shake this feeling he had. He hated Fuhrman for her pettiness and her generally nasty behavior and her assumption that he was an attention-seeking brat, but for some strange, inexplicable reason, a voice much like his own echoed inside of his head: _you'll find that Elise Fuhrman has a bigger heart than you could ever know_. It might have been intuition, but his intuition had never felt so tangible, so familiar, like an old box he had stored in an attic and long forgotten.

Ginny and Ron's mouths hung slightly open in disbelief, but Ginny eventually folded her arms and nodded down the hall as if to say, _Fine, let's go._

The four of them piled into the lift.

"I know it's still early, but I feel like I've been awake for _hours,_ " Ron complained.

"It's probably the headaches," Hermione explained, "We'll feel better after we eat."

She pressed the button for the Atrium, but the lift stopped at level one.

"Level one," the cool female voice said, "Minister for Magic and Support Staff, including Senior Undersecretary and Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic."

A small excitable man in a purple top hat strolled into the lift. His face lit up at the sight of the four. It was Dedalus Diggle.

"Well, hello there, you lot! I thought I would see you here, Harry."

"Hi, Dedalus," Harry answered.

"Just been in to see Kingsley." Dedalus winked at them. "He's found an Undersecretary that he'd like to appoint. Things are looking up, but there is certainly a lot to be done. Every department's gone awry since the War, and eleven months hasn't been enough to get it all back to normal."

"Atrium," the cool female voice said. The five of them left the lift as more volunteers rushed to take their place.

Hermione eyed the volunteers. "I can't imagine all of the work that Kingsley is doing right now. I don't think I could take all of that responsibility."

Ron chuckled lightly.

Hermione scowled. "Just what is so funny, Ron?"

Ron rolled his eyes, "Hermione, you're brilliant at, like, everything. I wouldn't be surprised if you ran for Minister some day."

"I don't think so. I'm not interested in politics." She flushed with embarrassment. "Besides, it's very difficult to become Minister; you would need to be popular with everyone in the community and-"

"That wouldn't be hard," Ron interjected, "People would love you, Hermione. I can just imagine everyone waving to you and saying 'Hello Madam Minister' everywhere you go."

Harry wondered if this was something Ron had read about in _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches. Charm your partner by visualizing her success…_

Dedalus rocked on his toes excitedly. "He isn't wrong, my dear. If you are half the witch everyone says you are, you could have a great career in politics."

Hermione looked down sheepishly. "Thanks, Dedalus, and thank you, Ron." She grasped Ron's hand.

"Someone's going to get a snog later," Ginny whispered in Harry's ear, "I'll bet you they won't be available when Mum asks them to set the table tonight." Harry privately hoped that he, too, would get a snog later, but right now all he wanted was lunch.

As the four set across the Atrium it seemed as though half of the Wizarding World was still in line at the registration desks. The War had done nothing to soften their passion for change, their yearning for the better. If anything, it had strengthened it. It was a line through time, unyielding, unbroken, stretching into forever, it seemed. _Same line, same dimension,_ the voice in Harry's head thought. People stared as they passed. Some of their school friends, like Demelza Robins, waved happily. The four of them finally opted to take the old telephone booth up to the streets of London.

The telephone booth was never big enough to fit four people, theoretically, so when it finally rose to the surface on the city streets, the four wizards struggled out. The spring air outside was cool and fresh, much unlike the warm sunny affair depicted in children's books about the seasons. Harry didn't mind it, though, as it gave him an excuse to hold Ginny's hand and keep her close as they walked their way to the Leaky Cauldron, led on by their yearning for butterbeer and superb fish and chips.

"Maybe after we finish volunteering we can go and see George," Ron suggested, finally throwing open the door to the Leaky, "Haven't seen a lot of him since-,"

He stopped in his tracks, squinting concernedly. It wasn't hard to see why. Angelina Johnson stood in front of the bar, her arms folded somberly. There were two butterbeers in front of her, an odd detail considering that she was all by herself. She appeared to be waiting for something. The four of them approached her tentatively.

"How are you, Angelina?" Harry asked. He realized a moment too late that this was a stupid question.

Angelina surveyed him tiredly. There were black circles underneath her eyes. "Hey, Harry. What was that?"

"Um..Are you okay?"

She shuffled her feet a little, glancing over her shoulder, "Well, _I'm_ okay. Can't say the same for George. He's here with me."

"Doesn't look like it," said Ron.

She shook her head. "He's in the loo. Sometimes we'll be in a public place, you know, and he'll just break down and-" Her face reddened, as if she had said too much. "He just needs a few minutes is all. I mean, considering everything lately…"

The four of them knew exactly what she was talking about. The twins' birthday had been two days ago, and it had been one of the most difficult experiences for the Weasleys. George had politely told his family that he would rather not have a big birthday celebration, and would instead like to celebrate alone in the quiet of his flat. On the surface, that sounded fine, except that a concerned Angelina later implied that George had spent an extremely dark day in his flat, and she refused to give all of the details when asked.

"You can sit with us while you're waiting, Angelina," Hermione suggested, "We were just about to order some fish and chips."

"Nice choice, Hermione. I'll get some too." It was George. His eyes looked red and puffy, and there was a certain emptiness to his gaze, a flame that had been subdued. He desperately tried to hide it, but it was hard not to notice. _A thing that I thought you understood is the terrible destruction of the mind that occurs when someone close to us is ripped away._ Harry agreed with the Voice. He did understand. He did. The Voice did not want him to be ashamed. But it also refused to let that destruction consume him or those he cared about.

George sat next to Angelina as they ordered a few butterbeers and some fish and chips from Tom the barkeep. After several sips of butterbeer, George cocked his head curiously.

"Harry," he whispered, "Do you think we'll be okay? After everything?" This was a different side of George, to see him bore his eyes into Harry's with such seriousness over this one question. Angelina's eyebrows were in her hairline, which told Harry that she had never heard this question from him either.

Harry searched his brain for an answer, but was surprised to find that the Voice already had one. "I know we'll be okay, George," he said. It was as if somebody else was using Harry's lips, Harry's voice, and whoever it was had mountains of wisdom and confidence that currently surpassed his own.

"We'll all be really successful some day, I know it," Ginny said, "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes might be all over the world someday, George."

"You think so?" George wondered.

"The future's full of possibilities, Mate," Ron added.

The future? Harry sat up with a jolt. "I just realized! Teddy's birthday is in two weeks! I haven't gotten him anything!"

Ron laughed. "Mate, it's two weeks. He's turning one. Calm down."

"Teddy's a cute kid," George said. A spark entered his eyes, and, miraculously, for the first time in weeks, possibly for the first time in months, he smiled. "Harry, I have the best idea for his birthday! It'll be like a WWW product, but safe enough for babies. It'll be a present to remember!"

"But he won't remember it," Hermione chuckled, "He's a baby."

"Who cares!" the others chorused, their faces alight. As George went into brainstorming mode with Ron, Angelina smiled over George's shoulder. _Thank you,_ she mouthed to them.

Were any of them really okay? No, not entirely. But they were positive they would be, some day. They were looking forward to life's tidings, to the blossoming of winter into spring, to birthdays and births, to making new friends of old enemies, to forging new paths.

What fueled them was the promise of more, the promise of the only constant:

Change.

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Hooray! My first mutli-chapter fic is done! This is certainly not the last fanfiction I will write, so stay tuned for future stories from CrookshanksTheKneazle!


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